


What happens on the ice, stays on the ice.

by Werederg



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Hockey, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Cheerleader Lizzie, F/F, Hockey Player Hope, Hope has anger issues, Lizzie is oblivious, Slow Burn, and trauma, little bit of a character study
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21540541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Werederg/pseuds/Werederg
Summary: Lizzie hates Hope Mikaelson. She hates how Hope always gets perfect scores on tests. She hates how teachers always like Hope best. She hates how Hope always acts like she doesn't have time for anyone but herself. But mostly, Lizzie hates that it feels like she doesn't actually know anything about the girl despite the fact that they've been going to the same school for 6 years.When Lizzie stumbles upon fact that Hope plays hockey, she begins to realize that there is a lot more to Hope Mikaelson than she had ever imagined.
Relationships: Ethan Machado & Hope Mikaelson, Hope Mikaelson & Lizzie Saltzman, Hope Mikaelson/Lizzie Saltzman, Josie Saltzman & Lizzie Saltzman, Maya Machado & Hope Mikaelson, Milton "MG" Greasley & Lizzie Saltzman, Penelope Park/Josie Saltzman
Comments: 116
Kudos: 460





	1. Hope Mikaelson Plays Hockey?!?

“I must say I was a little disappointed in the overall scores of this week’s test.” Dr. Saltzman announced to the class, a stack of papers in his hands. “The lowest score this week was a 52%, and I know you can do better because the highest score was a 100%, so please I want you all to try a little harder as we move on to the post war period.”

Dr. Saltzman moves to distribute the graded papers throughout the class. When he hands Lizzie her test, he refuses to make eye contact with his daughter. Lizzie scowls at her father’s avoidance and flips over her paper. Upon seeing a C+, Lizzie lets out a low growl.

Lizzie leans over to Josie to complain. “Ugh, I can’t believe this. This is the dumbest test Dad has ever written. How could anyone get an A in this?”

“Well, I mean…” Josie says uncertainly, slowly turning over her own paper with an A- scrawled across the top.

“Ugh, I don’t mean you, Jo. An A- isn’t an A, you and I both know that.”

“Right,” Josie says, relaxing a little. “Who do you think got the 100?”

Lizzie scoffs. “Please, who do you think? Little miss perfect over there doesn’t look upset at all,” Lizzie sneers, gesturing to where Hope Mikaelson sits at the front of the classroom. “You know what, she’s probably one of those people who don’t even study and still get an A. She’s such a teacher’s pet. I bet she’s never even gotten a detention in her life.”

“I guess some people are just good at certain things.” Josie says, trying to find the middle ground.

“Yeah, but she’s good at like, everything.”

“That’s not true, Liz.”

“You’re right, I’m prettier and more popular.” Lizzie says with a cocky shake of her head.

Josie subtly rolls her eyes and turns back to face the board as their dad starts talking again.

Later at lunch, Lizzie is still wound up about the test and Hope. She sits at a table with Josie and MG.

“I mean, honestly, she clearly doesn’t have a life. Does she do anything else other than study? I don’t have time to get 100’s on everything, I’ve got other things to do. I’ve got cheer practice and you know, I actually get asked out on dates.” Lizzie continues to complain about Hope, clearly just trying to justify her C+, not that any of those arguments would fly with her father.

“That’s true, she just has different priorities.” MG says, trying his hardest to agree with Lizzie without being mean to someone he doesn't really know. 

Hope is a quiet student who never really talks to anyone, so not many people know much about her. It is hard to get a read on her, which is probably what bothers Lizzie the most.

“Yeah, well, she doesn’t have to make the rest of us look bad,” Lizzie grumbles.

“I’m sure that’s not her intention,” Josie reasons. Lizzie doesn’t seem convinced. “Oh, speaking of cheer. Do you have practice tonight, Liz,” Josie asks.

“Yeah, until 5. Speaking of which, did you know that they’re adding new performances to the season this year. We’re playing at hockey games now. I didn’t even know we had a hockey team,” Lizzie says, animatedly.

“Oh, yeah, it’s actually a district wide team, because no one school had enough players, so they merged them together. It’s made up of students from like four of the surrounding high schools. I don’t know how good they are, though, I’ve never been to a game,” MG explains.

“Ew, it’s not even really our team, and it’s going to be so cold. Plus, I bet they, like really suck, and that’s why we’ve never heard anything about it,” Lizzie complains.

“Well, hey, Josie and I can come with so we can watch the game together,” MG suggests.

“I guess that would make it a little more bearable,” Lizzie says, rolling her eyes. “Thanks for that. As much as I love the girls on the squad, they’re not the most interesting conversationalists.”

“Of course, Lizzie. It’ll be cool to see what the hockey team is like. I don’t even know anybody that is on it,” Josie says.

“It’s probably like three people,” Lizzie says dismissively.

That Thursday, Lizzie, Josie, and MG show up early for the hockey game.

“Oh my god, why does it have to be so cold?” Lizzie complains, jumping up and down to keep warm in her cheer uniform.

“Because there’s ice.” MG says.

“No, duh.” Lizzie says, glaring at him.

“Alright, I’m going to go get some concessions. You want anything, MG?” Josie asks.

“Nachos, please and thank you. I’ll pay you back later.” MG answers, a grateful look on his face.

“Yeah, no problem. You want anything, Liz?”

“Ugh, not right now. I can’t eat in uniform.” Lizzie answers. “I’ll be back. I need to check in with the coach. You guys should get seats close to where we’re performing.”

The cheerleaders are gathered off to one side, almost ready to start their pre-game routine. Lizzie asks the coach how long they have to be there for and she answers that they have to perform before the game and during half time, but after that they can leave. Lizzie grumbles about this even though she knew that was probably the case.

After a rather underwhelming routine by a handful of cold and irritated teenage girls, Lizzie joins Josie and MG in the stands nearby. The rest of the cheerleaders disperse into the crowd as well.

“Oh god, coat! Coat, please!” Lizzie says as she runs over to her friends. Josie quickly hands her sister the puffy winter coat that she brought along. Lizzie quickly wraps herself in the fabric and sits down in between Josie and MG with a sigh.

“Five more minutes until the game starts.” MG says.

Lizzie groans. “I don’t even know the rules of this game,” she says.

“That never stopped you from watching football,” Josie points out.

“I guess I can give it a shot. But there better be at least one hot guy or I’m leaving.” Lizzie says, turning her attention to the rink, where the teams are starting to appear. Players are lined up on the benches as their coaches address them, most of them decked out in bulky padding.

“Holy shit! Guys?” MG says after a moment of looking at the blue clad players of their team. He motions for Lizzie and Josie to look where he’s looking.

“Is that?” Josie asks, shocked, as she spots what MG is pointing out.

“Hope Mikaelson?” Lizzie exclaims in surprise, eyes locking on the girl.

Hope has her hair up in a tight ponytail. She has a white helmet in one hand, a stick in the other, and a mouthguard already in her mouth. Lizzie would have thought that seeing Hope play a sport, especially one like hockey, would’ve been weird, but, surprisingly, the girl doesn’t look out of place among the other players. If anything, Lizzie thinks the uniform rather suits Hope.

Lizzie quickly shakes the thought away and scoffs. “I guess little miss perfect needed  _ another _ extracurricular for her college applications. She’s probably a bench warmer, anyways,” Lizzie sneers.

Before Josie or MG can respond, a handful of players, including Hope, on each side put their helmets on, and slip out onto the ice. They line up, each on their respective sides of the rink.

“Tonight we will introduce the starting players for each team.” The loudspeaker says. “For the mystic falls district team, known as the Mystic Wolves, we have a senior from Mystic Falls high school, Ethan Machado.”

One of the players skates forward out of the line a little, taps his stick against the ice a few times for show, and returns to his original place.

“Junior from Mystic Falls high school, Maya Machado.” The announcer continues.

The girl skates forward and does a little spin, before returning to the line.

“Junior from Salvatore high school, and last year’s MVP, Hope Mikaelson!” The announcer calls Hope’s name with more enthusiasm.

Hope skates forward, skidding to a sharp stop that kicks up a spray of ice in the direction of the opposing team. It is hard to see from where Lizzie is sitting, but it looks like Hope is staring down the other team. After a moment, Hope gets back in line and the announcer goes through the rest of the names for their team and the opposing.

“MVP, are they serious?” Lizzie asks her friends, baffled.

“I don’t know, Lizzie. I never heard anything about it.” MG answers.

“I mean, good for her, I guess.” Josie says, also sounding confused.

“The team’s probably just that terrible, that Hope Mikaelson seems good by comparison.” Lizzie reasons.

To be fair, Lizzie isn’t completely wrong. The team isn’t that good, but Hope definitely didn’t need their comparison to look good.

From the moment the puck hits the ice, Lizzie finds herself holding her breath as she watches Hope weave effortlessly in between opponents and take frighteningly fast shots at the goal. Honestly, though, that’s not even what startles Lizzie the most. What startles Lizzie the most is Hope’s ruthless play style. Lizzie watches, eyes locked on Hope as she plows into enemy players, smashes them up against the glass around the edges of the rink, and aggressively hip checks them to get the puck back. Lizzie has a good enough seat that she thinks she can hear a deep growl coming from the small shy girl that Lizzie thought she knew anything about.

Hope also isn’t just an aggressive player, as Lizzie is quickly learning that hockey is an aggressive sport by nature, but Hope is also kind of a bad sport. Hope would laugh in the face of the other team after a goal. She would also taunt the opposing team when they lined up again after a point was scored, usually non-verbally to avoid being penalized by the ref.

At some point, part way through the first half, after Hope had scored the tenth point of the game, making the score 10 to 0, she had raised her stick over head in victory after the shot. The ref let her off with a warning for high sticking, but didn’t call any penalties. On her way back to the other side of the ice, however, one of the opposing players intentionally bumped shoulders with her and likely said something along with it. Hope turned on the player, and gave him a little shove along with what looked very much like an insult. The next thing Lizzie knew, Hope and the player were throwing down their sticks and fighting, and maybe it didn’t matter, but Lizzie thought Hope was winning.

Hope was pulled off of the guy and they were both given a major penalty, meaning five minutes in the penalty box. As Hope skated over to the box, evidently familiar with the action, her coach followed her around the edge of the rink, screaming at her. Hope only looked mildly irritated as the man’s face turned red. She plopped herself down on the bench in the penalty box as the coach continued to berate her. After a moment, Hope rolled her eyes and held up her middle finger to her coach, which only managed to make him angrier to the point of becoming non-verbal. 

Lizzie doesn’t think she closed her mouth after it had fallen open in surprise when Hope flipped off her coach. There were so many things to process about just that scene, much less everything else that happened in the game. Lizzie thinks her brain is short-circuiting, and from the looks on Josie and MG’s faces, she doesn’t think she is alone.

“What is going on? I feel like I stumbled into an alternative universe.” Lizzie says, her eyes still locked on Hope fuming in the penalty box.

“That is one angry young woman.” MG says.

“I had no idea she was capable of something like this.” Josie adds.

They continue to watch the game, although Lizzie finds herself watching Hope in the box more often than not. In the five minutes that Hope is out of the game, the other team manages to score six points. With the terrifying force that is Hope Mikaelson gone, the opposing team almost completely controls the puck.

Just as Hope is put back into the game, Lizzie has to go meet up with the cheer squad to prep for their halftime performance. She watches Hope’s antics out of the corner of her eye as their cheer coach explains what they are doing.

Once halftime is called, another thing that surprises Lizzie is that as Hope joins her teammates on the bench, they seem to get along quite well. Hope has a smile on her face and her hair is plastered to her face from sweat. A few of her teammates clap her on the back despite the glares they receive from the coach.

Lizzie manages to drag her attention away from Hope to perform, although she sneaks a look at any moment she gets. A few times, Lizzie swears that Hope was looking back at her.

After only a few minutes, the cheer performance is over and the coach dismisses them. Lizzie returns to Josie and MG, gratefully taking her coat back.

“So, do you want to leave now that you’re free to go?” Josie asks.

“Nah, I’d like to see how this ends.” Lizzie says, her eyes glued back on Hope. “Jo, can you grab me a hot chocolate though. I need to warm up.”

Josie shares a look with MG before heading back to concessions. They watch the rest of the game, Lizzie nursing her hot chocolate for warmth. Hope gets sent back to the penalty box one more time. This time it’s a minor penalty for roughing and she’s only out for two minutes. By the end of the game the score is something like 24-8, the Mystic Wolves with the obvious lead.

Lizzie, MG, and Josie make they’re way toward the exit with the rest of the crowd, stalling where the players are coming out to see if there was anyone else they recognized. While they are there, they overhear a conversation between Hope and the coach.

“Mikaelson! What have I told you? It’s only the first game of the season and you have already been sent to the penalty box twice. What good are you to the team if you can’t even be on the ice, Mikaelson! This is not the last time we will talk about this. I expect to see you try, or I swear to god I will cut you from the team.” The coach scolds.

Hope snorts at that last part, but doesn’t say anything after the look she receives from the coach.

“Hey, at least she didn’t break anything this time, coach.” One of the other players say with a laugh. She has curly black hair that is flattened and sweaty from her helmet.

“Was I talking to you, Machado?” The coach growls.

“Talking to me coach?” Another boy says as he walks over. There is a slight smile on his face that says he knows the coach wasn’t talking to him.

“No, not you, I was talking to Little Machado.” The coach snaps angrily.

The siblings laugh at their coach’s lack of chill. Hope snickers at their teasing of the coach as well, which only serves to make him more angry.

“Alright, that’s it! All three of you, I want to see you for an extra hour of practice on Monday, no excuses.” The coach snaps, stomping off to go collect his things.

The two other players groan at the punishment. Hope only shrugs in response.

“I was probably gonna be there anyways.” Hope murmurs.

“Well, considering you got us into this mess, you better be there to keep us company, right, Maya?” The brother says, turning to his sister for the last part.

“Oh, please, Ethan, when has Hope ever not been at practice? She even put in double time when she was suspended from games for two weeks.” Maya says. “It’s crazy that coach thinks you’re not a team player.”

Hope smiles a little and waves goodbye to her teammates as she makes her way to the exit. On her way there, she passes Lizzie, MG, and Josie.

“Hope? Since when do you play hockey?” Lizzie says like she just noticed Hope was there and hadn’t been staring at her for the entire game.

Hope’s head snaps in Lizzie’s direction and she skids to a stop, causing a few people behind her to grumble and pass her. Hope’s eyes go wide as she takes a tentative step towards the kids from her school.

“Lizzie, Josie, MG, hi?” Hope greets them uncertainly. Hope is definitely not prepared to deal with people she doesn’t know that well after having played an entire hockey game. Her brain is working at around 20% capacity, which is probably why her mouth freezes half way open with no sound coming out for a long moment. She looks a little bit like a deer in the headlights.

“You played a really good game.” MG says, tentatively trying to break the tension.

Hope frowns in confusion. “Thanks, um. Since when do you guys come to hockey games?” Hope asks, a hint of hostility in the question.

“Since cheer has to perform for them.” Lizzie says, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, right.” There is an awkward beat of silence. “Well, bye.” Hope says, quickly moving to disappear into the departing crowd.

Lizzie scowls. “Geez, no social skills much,” She sneers, brows furrowed in confusion.

“She’s probably just a little out of it from the game, Lizzie,” Josie says.

“Yeah, especially with the way she played,” MG agrees. “I’m surprised she even knew my name to be honest.”

“Weren’t you guys partners in gym last year?” Josie asks.

“Yeah, but, she hardly ever said anything,” MG answers. “I didn’t really expect she would remember me.”

Lizzie is still scowling at the crowd that Hope disappeared into, not really listening to what her friends were saying. “I’m going to grab a drink for the ride home,” Lizzie says suddenly, before pushing her way into the crowd to get at the concessions.

It takes MG and Josie a second to process what Lizzie said before they follow after her, sharing a concerned look at her change in behavior.

“Hey, Lizzie. Are you okay?” Josie asks when they catch up with her.

“Yeah, why?” Lizzie all but snaps as she waits in line.

“You just seem a little… off,” Josie tries to say gently.

“Ugh, it’s _Hope_ _Mikaelson_. That girl just ticks me off for some reason. I mean, she was already good at like everything, and now she’s like some hockey all-star. I bet it was her idea to have cheer perform at these games, because like if we didn’t, nobody would even know that our school even had a hockey team. Because this way she gets to show off to more people and I bet she didn’t even consider how much it sucks to be in this cold ass rink with our cheer uniforms on. I just don’t want to have to deal with her anymore.” 

At some point during Lizzie’s rant, she paused to pay for a water bottle at the concessions stand, before seamlessly continuing on her tirade as they turned to leave out the doors. However, as Lizzie’s rant comes to its end and the three friends are out the doors, they are confronted with Hope Mikaelson once more.

Hope is sitting on the edge of the curb, equipment bag plopped down next to her. She is hunched over, face in her hands. Her phone is lying face down on the road in front of her.

Lizzie, Josie and MG skid to a halt and fall silent for a moment, not sure what to do. Josie looks at her sister and then at MG, both of them giving her a noncommittal shrug. Josie rolls her eyes and slowly approaches Hope.

“Hope?” Josie says gently as she gets closer, not wanting to startle the girl.

Hope’s head jerks up in surprise. “Oh, Josie. Hi,” Hope says tensely. Hope looks uncomfortable at the attention, like she just wants to be left alone.

“Are you okay?” Josie asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Hope says sharply.

“Oh, okay,” Josie says, slightly taken aback. “Have a good night then.” Josie rejoins her friends, and her and MG continue on their way to the parking lot, but they stop when they realize Lizzie hasn’t moved.

Lizzie is looking at Hope with brows furrowed a slight scowl on her face. Hope doesn’t notice, having already turned back to stare down at the ground. After a long moment of Josie and MG watching Lizzie stare at Hope like she was complex math problem, the scowl drops from Lizzie’s face and she takes a step toward Hope.

“Hope?” Lizzie says, her voice not exactly friendly, but not the same irritated tone she had been using before.

There is a quiet grumble from Hope before she turns around to see Lizzie. “What?” Hope says, thinly-veiled irritation in her voice.

“Do you need a ride home?” Lizze asks earnestly.

The irritation immediately falls from Hope’s face, replaced by a little bit of surprise and a guarded expression. Hope’s eyes flick to where her phone is sitting on the ground. She seems to consider the prospects of her situation for a long moment.

“Yeah, if you wouldn’t mind,” Hope says, quietly, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. Hope doesn’t meet Lizzie’s eyes as she gets up and collects her things, which includes her phone from off the ground which seemed to have a few fresh cracks in the screen.

Lizzie nods solemnly, an impassive look on her face. They walk over to join Josie and MG before continuing on their way to the parking lot. Hope still doesn’t make eye contact with anyone as they walk, but Lizzie thinks she can see a slight redness around the edges of Hope’s eyes. Not that Lizzie spends a lot of time looking at Hope’s incredibly blue eyes, she was just nosy.

“You can put your stuff in the trunk,” Lizzie tells Hope when they reach the twins’ car. She pops open the trunk and Hope places her equipment bag in without a word.

Lizzie gets behind the wheel, Josie in the passenger seat next to her, which left MG and Hope in the back seat together, both of them awkward and visibly uncomfortable.

“Everybody buckled?” Josie asks as they prepare to leave.

A round of agreements follow.

“Okay, good,” Lizzie says as she pulls away. “So, Hope, where do you live?”

“3211 Maple Rd,” Hope answers.

“Ah, you live in the rich people neighborhood,” Lizzie says, bluntly.

Hope seems to consider Lizzie for a moment. “Yeah,” She answers.

“Alright, we’ll drop MG off first then, it’ll be on the way.”

“Sounds good to me,” MG says awkwardly trying to relieve the weird tension in the car. After a long awkward silence, MG tries again. “So, Hope, do you still lift?” MG asks, turning to Hope.

“Yeah, I do,” Hope answers plainly.

“That’s good. Did you ever push through that bench? I know you were fighting with that plateau last year in gym.”

“Oh, yeah. I can bench over a plate now.”

“Dang, really? That’s awesome. I don’t even think I can do that,” MG says, becoming a little self-conscious. “I mean, to be fair, I haven’t lifted in a while. It’s hard to find the time.”

“That’s true. I’m usually in the gym during my 7th hour study hall.”

“Wait, what’s a plate?” Lizzie asks from the front seat.

“It’s the largest single weight. Benching a plate is 45 lbs on either side of the bar, plus the 45 lbs of the bar, so 135 lbs in total,” MG explains.

“Oh, God. I don’t even think I can lift the bar,” Lizzie says. MG and Josie laugh a little at Lizzie’s self-defeating joke, Josie nodding in agreement as she is in a similar situation when it comes to muscle mass.

“Have you tried?” Hope asks abruptly.

“Um, I don’t think so, not in a long time at least.” Lizzie answers like Hope’s question is absurd.

“Okay.” is all Hope says in response.

The car falls silent once more. Within a minute or so, they arrive at MG’s house and let him out. He waves goodbye as they drive away. The weird tension returns threefold for the remaining occupants of the vehicle.

“So, Hope, what’d you get on that history test?” Lizzie asks, breaking the silence but not lessening the tension at all.

“I got 100%.”

“Wait, really? You’re the one who got the 100?” Lizzie says feigning shock, like she hadn’t already been holding that score against Hope. “That test was so hard. How’d you even manage that?”

“My family is full of history buffs,” Hope says curtly, like she definitely doesn’t want to elaborate.

“Well, that’s lucky. Do your mom or dad make you go to like reenactments or stuff like that?”

“No.” Hope’s voice is even more short and clipped now, a threatening edge in the firm way she answers.

“Okay, geez.”

“My house is the third one from the end.” 

Lizzie pulls over in front of the indicated house. 

“Thanks,” Hope mumbles as she exits the car as quickly as humanly possible. Lizzie pops the trunk and Hope retrieves her stuff before climbing up the front steps of her extravagant home.

“Geez, what’s wrong with her?” Lizzie says as she pulls away from the curb.

Josie gives her sister a half shocked, half disapproving look. “What? Lizzie, she clearly didn’t want to talk about it.”

“I just don’t see what the big deal is. If she didn’t want to talk about it, why didn’t she just say that?”

Josie sighs, knowing the stubbornness of her sister. “Let’s just wait until we get home to talk about it.”

“Fine, whatever.”

After a 20 minute conversation between Josie and Lizzie, Josie manages to convince her sister that she had been rude to Hope, not that Lizzie seems to be too sorry for it, but that could also just be her need to be right shining through. Although, Josie is still surprised that Lizzie offered Hope a ride or that she knew what was wrong to begin with. Hope was never somebody that Josie could read and she didn’t know anybody who could. So despite the whole interaction being kind of bad, Josie is still kind of proud of her sister, if not curious.


	2. Since When Does Lizzie Care About Hockey?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzie Saltzman is suddenly a little obsessed, and she is probably not ready to realize why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, okay, so I was surprised at how many people actualy liked this. Thanks so much for all the nice comments and kudos, I'm glad you all liked it. I'm going to try to keep going, but honestly, I planned none of this out and have no idea where it's going. So if you have any ideas or comments or anything else I'd love to hear it.
> 
> I have a Tumblr, so if you want to message me there that would be cool too.  
> Tumblr: @Werederg

The next morning, Josie, Lizzie and MG meet up in the library before their first hour. Lizzie and Josie are sitting at a table off to one side, Josie with a notebook in front of her and Lizzie focusing on something on her laptop. When MG enters the library, he spots them immediately.

“Hey, guys,” MG greets the twins as he walks over. “Do anything fun last night after the game?” He asks as he takes a seat next to Josie.

“Only if you think Calc homework is fun,” Josie answers, a tired look in her eyes.

“Did you guys know that the hockey team has a website?” Lizzie asks abruptly, seemingly not having been listening to the conversation.

“Uh, I guess not. It makes sense, though. A lot of school groups do,” MG says, a little caught off guard by the sudden change in subject.

“Yeah, it actually looks decent, too. Like, it’s got a full team roster on the site and a complete game schedule. It even has when the cheer team is performing on there,” Lizzie says, scrolling through the web page on her computer.

“That’s cool, Liz. How’d you end up on the hockey team’s website?” Josie asks uncertainly. Since when did Lizzie have an interest in hockey?

“Last night, I was wondering how many Salvatore students are actually on the team, considering I didn’t see anyone one else I recognized.”

“Oh, how many?” MG asks.

“It’s only two, Hope and some kid named Chuck Cloister. They have little player bios. Apparently, he’s a sophomore here and plays as the back up goalie,” Lizzie says, turning her computer to show Josie and MG.

“Huh, this is actually pretty cool. I’m surprised that no one talks about it. Maybe I should bring it up at the next newspaper meeting. We could do a piece on the team,” Josie says, eyes skimming the player bios on the screen.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure no one reads the school newspaper, Jo,” Lizzie says. “Although, people do need to know that we have at least one team that actually wins games, so it could be a start.” A strange determination sparkles in Lizzie’s eyes as an idea begins to form.

“Hey, people read the newspaper. I mean, I do and MG does, right?” Josie turns to MG.

“Uh, I mean…” MG trails off, refusing to meet Josie’s gaze.

“Seriously?” Josie sighs, “Well, whatever, it’d be a fun piece to write anyways, and if I’m the only one who reads it, I might as well write whatever I want, right?”

“That’s the spirit, Jo. But the real question is how do we get people to come to games, because once they see that we actually win at something, they’ll be bound to stick around,” Lizzie says, clearly thinking out loud. “Maybe if we just get people talking about it…” Lizzie trails off into her own thoughts. 

“I can talk to the rest of the student council and see if they are willing to do an event for it or something. Like advertise it and post a theme for the game, or something,” MG offers.

“Good idea, Milton. Just make sure the theme isn’t lame.” Lizzie pauses in thought. “Who am I kidding, they’re always lame, but still.”

MG looks like he is about to argue, before thinking better of it. The five minute bell rings around them and they start to pack up their things and head to class.

The next day, Hope receives an unexpected pass at the end of her third hour. She doesn’t recognize the room number, so she really doesn’t know what it could possibly be for. She ends up walking into what she vaguely knows as the photography classroom, which also happened to be where the school newspaper is organized.

“Um,” Hope says, brandishing her pass to the teacher in the room.

“Oh, just a second,” The teacher turns and calls toward the isolated work rooms that lined one wall, “Josie, Hope’s here!”

Hope furrows her brow. Not that Hope had anything against Josie. Josie had never been anything but polite to her and she was a hard worker, the few times they ended up working on projects together. But that didn’t mean that Hope knew Josie at all, and after seeing her at the hockey game, Hope is uncertain around the girl.

Josie pops her head out of one of the work rooms and smiles at Hope. “Hey, come on over. I wanted to talk to you about something if you have a minute.”

Hope walks over hesitantly, an eyebrow raised in question.

“You can have a seat if you like,” Josie offers as she takes her own seat.

Hope sits down across from Josie and waits for her to explain what was going on.

“Okay, so I’m sure you’re curious as to why I called you down. I don’t know if you know, but I’m a part of the school newspaper, and we’re doing a piece on the Mystic Wolves Hockey team for the next issue. Anyways, I was wondering if you would be willing to be interviewed for the piece, considering you are a starting player,” Josie explains.

Hope tenses at the explanation. She watches Josie carefully. The girl seems genuine, like she really just wants to ask her a few questions for a fun news piece. Unfortunately, Hope can’t think of a good reason to say no.

Josie seems to sense Hope’s hesitation and continues, “It’ll only be a few questions and you don’t have to answer all of them if you don’t want to. It shouldn’t take too long either.”

“Um, yeah, sure. I guess that’s okay,” Hope answers, looking vaguely uncomfortable. Her hands fidget under the table.

Josie’s face lights up. “Okay, great, thank you.” She moves to rummage in her bag and pulls out a small device, placing it on the table between them. “I’ll be recording so everything will be on record and I can go back and make sure I got everything. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, great!” Josie says, pushing a button on the device that made a red light turn on. “Okay, we are now recording. So, Hope, would you mind introducing yourself, like your name, grade, etc.?”

“Sure, um, I’m Hope Mikaelson. I’m a junior at Salvatore High school.” Hope speaks awkwardly, not really making eye contact.

“Good, now you’re on the Mystic Wolves hockey team, the district hockey team for the tri-town area, correct? What position do you play?”

“Uh, I’m the starting right wing.”

“How long have you been playing hockey?” 

“Um, I guess, five or six-ish years.”

“That’s cool. What is your favorite thing about hockey? In general or specifically with this team.”

Hope seems to grow even more uncomfortable with this question. “Oh, uh, I mean, it’s good exercise, and, uh, I don’t know, it’s just fun.” Nothing in Hope’s voice seems to be genuine as she gives this stilted response.

“Okay. What about the team? Do you get along with your teammates?”

“Um, yeah, I like a lot of them and I think we have a good team dynamic.”

“That’s good. Now I did do some research, and I learned that last year you were voted, almost unanimously, as the MVP of the season. How does it feel to be honored like that? Do you have any thoughts on who might win that title this season?”

“Um, I… I was very honored to receive MVP last season, but, I mean, we all played good games last season. And, uh, I think it would be great if Ethan, our center, won MVP this season. It’s his last year on the team and he’s a great player. He deserves it.”

“Alright. I’m sure you’re aware, but there isn’t a lot of recognition for you and your teammates successes at the Salvatore school. We’ve started conducting a small poll, and so far the results show that most students aren’t even aware that the school has a hockey team. How do you feel about that?”

Hope tenses at that. “I never really cared about that, I guess,” Hope responds sharply. “Is that all?” 

Josie looks a little surprised at the sudden change in Hope’s behavior, but then again, Hope has acted strange for most of the time Josie has known her. Josie nods hesitantly. She had other questions, but she doesn’t want to make Hope any more uncomfortable than she already has.

“Yes, you can go. Thank you for your time,” Josie says, as Hope gives her a forced smile before leaving.

“Are you Chuck Cloister?” Josie asks, seeing the boy standing awkwardly in the doorway with a pass in his hand.

“Oh, yeah, hi!” The boy says brightly, making his way over to Josie. He is a relatively short and skinny indian boy, probably around 5’5”, with poorly cut floppy brown hair. There are a few patches of inconsistent facial hair on his neck and he wears clothes that look too big for him, giving him a generally awkward look.

“Hi, Chuck. I’m Josie, I was wondering if you would be interested in participating in an interview for the school paper about you being on the Mystic Wolves Hockey team.”

“Wait, really? Of course, that’s so cool!” Chuck says, enthusiastically.

“Great, just come on over then,” Josie says, leading him over to her work room.

Chuck practically vibrates with visible excitement as he follows Josie. Josie can’t help but find the boy extremely cute.

“You can have a seat if you like,” Josie says once they enter the room. She closes the door behind them and takes her own seat. “So, if you’re alright with it, I’d like to record the interview, so I can go back over it later.”

“Oh, yeah totally. Go for it.”

“Okay,” Josie says, pulling out her small recording device. “And, we are on the record. Can you start by introducing yourself? Like your name and grade.”

“Okay, yeah. I’m Chuck Cloister, like oyster, but you know not,” Chuck says with a small laugh, “and I’m a sophomore. Although, I did skip a grade when I was younger, so I’m only 14.”

“Okay, good,” Josie says, a little startled at the boy’s oversharing, mostly in contrast to Hope’s brief responses. “So, what position do you play on the hockey team?”

“I’m the 2nd goalie, meaning I start on the bench.”

“Oh, do you not see a lot of action then?”

“No, I see plenty of game time. I mean, we have a really good starting goalie, but like, goalies can take some pretty rough hits in a game. Just this last year, I dislocated my shoulder and got a minor concussion,” Chuck explains, an enthusiastic smile on his face.

“Oh, geez. That sounds intense,” Josie says, her eyes wide at Chuck’s casual approach to bodily harm.

“Yeah, I really like hockey though, so I don’t mind.”

“How long have you been playing hockey for?”

“Oh, my parents only let me play once I reached sixth grade. But I’ve been watching NHL games since I was like 3 years old. So I’ve basically always wanted to be a hockey player.”

“What’s your favorite thing about hockey?”

“Oh, god, I only get to pick one?” Chuck says in comically exaggerated distress.

Josie laughs. “You can say as many as you want, but keep it brief, I do have a word limit,” She says with a smile.

“Okay, then I guess one of the things I’ve always loved about hockey is how it can be so graceful and rough at the same time. Like it’s such a beautiful test of strength and balance and strategy, all at once. That and I’ve met some really amazing people through hockey.”

“Speaking of which, how do you get along with your teammates?

“Oh, I love the team. There are some really great people and players on the Mystic Wolves. My counterpart, the starting goalie, Randall, is a really good guy. He’s pretty quiet and keeps to himself, but he’s always willing to give me pointers and help me with stuff if I ask. I’m going to miss him when he graduates. The Machados are a riot all the time. They’re brother and sister and they are both starting offensive players, so they are always arguing about stuff and they’re pretty hilarious. They like to team up and push the coach’s buttons whenever they can.”

“What about the other Salvatore player, Hope Mikaelson?”

“Hope? Hope is honestly our best player. She just gets really into the game and has been playing for so long and practices so much, it’s no surprise that she’s as good as she is. I didn’t know her at all when I first started, and she’s kinda closed off when you meet her, but she loves hockey almost as much as I do, so I knew right away that we would get along well. I started to get to know her better when I started staying late at practices. She was always ready to run extra drills and put in extra time. I honestly really look up to her, even if she scares me a little.”

“Huh, I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone describe Hope like that.”

“Yeah, I get the feeling that not a lot of people actually know her,” Chuck says, like he knows something that Josie doesn’t.

“Well, I have just one more question then, Chuck. I’m sure you’re aware that there isn’t a lot of recognition for the hockey team here at Salvatore. How do you feel about that?”

“Oh, I guess it’s not my favorite thing about being on the hockey team. Like when everyone gets hyped before a football game, I wish we could have that here, but it’s not a big deal for me. I mean, the hockey team is really popular at Mystic Falls high, because so many of the players are from there, so we still get plenty of recognition. I know some of the other players kind of like that hockey isn’t popular at their schools because they don’t really like the attention. That seems reasonable to me, so I don’t mind.”

“Okay, thank you for your time, Chuck. Have a great rest of your day,” Josie says, moving to turn her recorder off as the boy departs.

Josie meets up with Lizzie after school, Lizzie’s cheer practice getting out early. Josie catches Lizzie coming out of the locker room and they walk to Lizzie’s locker together so she can grab her stuff.

“So, I did the interviews today,” Josie says, as they walk side by side down the hall.

“Oh, how’d they go?”

“Pretty good, I think. I mean it’s like my third time conducting interviews, so I don’t have a great frame of reference. That Chuck kid was nice, and really talkative which is great for writing.”

“What about Hope? I don’t think she’s ever said more than two consecutive sentences to me. I can’t imagine what interviewing her was like,” Lizzie says, a bit of contempt in her voice.

“It was fine. She didn’t say much and I didn’t get to ask all the questions I want to. She seemed really uncomfortable,” Josie points out.

Lizzie’s brow furrows at that. Her expression very much resembled the look she had on her face when she had been staring at Hope sitting on the curb the other night. “Hm,” is all Lizzie says in response.

“Yeah, I’ve got to go over the recordings tonight, though, so I can take notes and start writing tomorrow.”

Lizzie snaps out of her thoughts, turning to her sister. “Ooo! Can I listen to them?” Lizzie asks, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Yeah, sure, I guess,” Josie says, giving her sister a suspicious look. Lizzie had been acting really weird lately. “By the way, how’s your plan to make the hockey team more popular going?” Josie asks, casually, trying not to let on how out of character she thought her sister was behaving. 

Not that the random scheme or sudden interest in something new is the odd part of Lizzie’s behavior. The girl is known for chasing after a passing whim or interest without much forethought. It’s just that it’s usually a hot guy or a new fashion trend, not  _ hockey _ .

“Oh, it’s going pretty good. I talked to the girls on the cheer team and told them to invite their friends to the games, so that we wouldn’t have to be alone in between performances. It wasn’t hard to convince them, they don’t think for themselves very much. I’m going to talk to Rafael and Kaleb tomorrow at lunch. I’m hoping to convince them that they should get the basketball and football teams to come support hockey in like a sports solidarity thing. I think that’s a jock thing, I’m not sure,” Lizzie says, animatedly, clearly invested in her plan.

Josie has to give her sister credit. It sounds like a decent plan that will probably work, and it might actually be a good thing for the team and the school. Josie thinks it might even improve their school’s relations with Mystic Falls High. The rivalry between the two schools has gotten pretty bad lately, escalating to the point of property damage sometimes. Not that Josie can think of a reason Lizzie would even care about any of those things.

“Well, it sounds great, Liz. If you need anything from me, let me know,” Josie says as she climbs into the passenger seat of their car, tossing her backpack on the seat behind her.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing with that article, Jo. You can make sure that we get some of the nerds to show up,” Lizzie says, starting the car and pulling away.

Josie rolls her eyes, but stops herself from arguing, knowing that she’s bound to lose that argument in the end.

“I wonder how often the hockey team practices,” Lizzie says, absently as they drive home.

“Oh, shoot, that would’ve been a good question,” Josie says with a grimace.

“It’s probably on the website if you want to check.”

“Good point.”

When the girls arrive at home, their dad isn’t there yet, probably still at school grading some papers. They throw some of their stuff down and move to the kitchen. Josie heats up some leftovers for the both of them and they eat while going over their physics notes for the test the next day.

Once they finish eating, Josie rummages around in her backpack for a couple seconds, pulling out her notebook, laptop, and the two small recorders.

“I’m going to start working on the interviews. If you want to listen to Hope’s I can start with Chuck’s,” Josie says, offering one of the small devices to her sister.

Lizzie hesitates for a second before accepting the device. She holds it strangely between two fingers as if it is a foreign creature.

“It’s pretty short, so just bring it back when you’re done. I’m going to set up in here if you want to go upstairs,” Josie says, setting up her stuff on the counter.

“Okay, I’ll be in our room. I suppose I’ll eventually have to do math homework, too, but I’ll do this first, so I can procrastinate a little longer,” Lizzie says, moving toward the staircase.

Josie snorts, but doesn’t look up from where she has begun to work.

Lizzie goes upstairs to the room the twins share and flops down on the bed.

“Alright, let’s see how bad this is. I bet she humble brags at least once,” Lizzie murmurs to herself before pressing the play button on the recorder.

The first thing that Lizzie notices is how silly her sister sounds when she’s in “reporter” mode. Lizzie laughs a little at the odd formality that Josie speaks with. 

The second thing Lizzie notices is just how uncomfortable Hope sounds answering Josie’s questions. When Josie had said she sounded uncomfortable, Lizzie had just assumed that Hope was kind of awkward in the interview, because, well, Hope is kind of awkward in general. But, listening to the recording, Lizzie can practically feel the discomfort in the girl’s voice. 

Lizzie can only imagine how Hope might’ve looked in the interview with the way she sounds. Lizzie imagines Hope sitting on the edge of her chair, hands fidgeting under the table. She imagines Hope looking awkwardly down at the floor to avoid eye contact. Maybe she was even bitting at her nails in discomfort.

Lizzie shakes herself out her thoughts, telling herself that’s she’s just projecting. She has no idea what Hope looked like during that interview, and it’s silly to think that she could even guess. Still, there is something about Hope’s discomfort that piques Lizzie’s interest. She furrows her brow and plays the recording again.

There are different levels of discomfort that Hope’s voice takes on during the interview, spiking at certain questions for no reason that Lizzie can discern. Even after listening to the tape over a dozen times, Lizzie can’t figure out why Hope would be so uncomfortable, even to begin with. But there is something about Hope’s tone of voice that Lizzie swears feels familiar, like something she knows. She really is just projecting again, but Lizzie swears that it sounds like the tone of voice that  _ she _ gets when she has to talk to people about her episodes, usually a therapist. But that doesn’t make any sense, so Lizzie plays the tape again.

At some point, long after Lizzie has lost count of how many times she’s listened to Hope blandly answer the same questions over and over again, Josie knocks on the door and walks in.

“Hey, Liz---” Josie stops in her tracks seeing her sister still laying on her bed, frowning down at the recorder in her hands. “You’re still listening to it? It’s only like a minute long,” Josie says, utter confusion written on her face.

“Oh, yeah, I listened to it a few times. Do you need it back now?” Lizzie says, absently, still staring down in concentration at the device.

“Um, yeah, I just finished with the other kid’s,” Josie says slowly, not knowing how to respond to Lizzie’s lack of response.

“Okay,” Lizzie says, getting up and handing the device to Josie. “I guess I have to do math homework now,” Lizzie says, starting to rummage around in her backpack for her math stuff.

Josie gives her sister on last suspicious glance before heading back downstairs, recorder in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is probably gonna be more in Hope's persepective so we can see how things are looking on her side of things.   
> Let me know what you think!


	3. Why does Everyone Suddenly Care about Hockey?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope's life isn't great and Lizzie somehow managed to make it worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so fun fact, I feel like I'm dying right now and I have a band concert in like 20 minutes, but I finished this chapter today, so I wanted to get it out to all of you nice people. I really appreciate all of the feedback and kudos. Hope you guys like it!   
> Also, Penelope is definitely going to be in the next chapter. I've got an idea of what I what want to do with her, but it's still a little rough, so we'll see how it goes.

Hope is waiting outside her house when Ethan and Maya pull up to pick her up for practice. It’s almost dark outside even though it’s not even 5 yet. Hope jogs over and climbs into the back seat, throwing her stuff into the trunk behind her.

“Hey, Hope,” Ethan greets her from behind the wheel.

Maya turns around in the passenger seat to face Hope. “Hey,” She says with a smile.

“Hi, guys,” Hope says, putting on her seatbelt.

“Sorry for picking you up a little early today. I figured it would be a good idea to get there early, so we don’t piss coach off anymore than we have already,” Ethan says as they pull away.

“Hey, it’s not my fault, someone doesn’t know how to keep their mouth shut,” Maya says.

“What? You were the one that provoked him first,” Ethan argues.

“No, I made a joke, you provoked him.”

“Oh, like those aren’t the same thing. The man has no sense of humor. And hey, what I said was a joke, too.”

“Yeah, except jokes are supposed to be funny.”

“Oh, come on!”

Hope laughs lightly in the back seat as she listens to the siblings bicker. Both Ethan and Maya occasionally glance back at Hope as they argue, pleased to find her enjoying the performance. Not that the siblings don’t normally argue like that, they definitely do, but they might be exaggerating just a little bit for Hope’s sake. Very few things are as rewarding as drawing laugh out of Hope Mikaelson. It doesn’t help that both Ethan and Maya have a crush on Hope either, which often leads to them trying to one up each other in front of her.

“Right, Hope?” Ethan says as they pull into the parking lot of the ice rink.

Hope chuckles. “Ethan, I assure you ketchup is not a smoothie.”

“Exactly! It’s a sports drink!” Maya exclaims in triumph.

Hope just laughs and moves to unbuckle as Ethan parks. They all get out of the car and grab their stuff out of the back, Maya claiming victory in the discussion despite her brother’s protests. They head into the rink and find their coach dragging equipment out of a storage closet.

“‘Sup, coach?” Ethan greets.

The coach grunts in response as the kids put their stuff down against the wall. “Give me a couple of laps around the rink for warm up,” He grumbles.

“And here I thought he’d be happy to see us,” Maya jokes as she takes her jacket off and drops it down next to her bag.

They start jogging lightly around rink, the exercise fighting back the growing chill of the ice. Ethan and Maya run about three laps before moving off to the side to start stretching. Hope keeps jogging until other players start showing up, which has her running about six laps.

A few other players, including Chuck, greet Hope as they place their stuff down and start the warm up. Hope starts her stretches, sitting down in between Maya and Ethan. Within a minute or so, the other players join them.

Once they’re done stretching, the coach tells them to gear up and get on the ice. They run drills, scrimmage, and go over a few strategies until it hits 7.

“Alright, we’re done for the day. You’re free to go.” The coach says gruffly, before turning to Hope, Ethan, and Maya. “Except you three. I want you guys to run plays. I’ll tell you when you’re done.”

“Oh, I can be in the goal,” Chuck says brightly, slipping his mask back on.

“Why would you want to do that? You’re not being punished,” The coach asks skeptically.

Chuck just smiles and shrugs as he skates over to the open goal.

Hope meets Chuck’s eyes and gives him a small smile. “Thanks, Chuck,” She calls to him from the center line.

“Oh, yeah, thanks, Chuck,” Ethan and Maya echo as they take their places on the centerline. The siblings look rather exhausted from practice, but Hope doesn’t look tired, so they try not to let it show. It’s always hard to keep up with that girl, especially on the ice.

They run plays for about 30 minutes before the coach comes back and calls them over to the side. The coach looks tired and irritated, but like the usual amount of tired and irritated, which is a good sign.

“Alright, I expect you to behave with a little more respect next time. I don’t want to have to do this again.” The coach emphasises this last part, making it very clear that he did not want to have to stay late with them ever again. 

“Of course, coach,” Ethan and Maya say, automatically without much sincerity.

Hope only nods in agreement, not bothering to make eye contact with the coach.

“Alright, get out of here. Except you, Hope, I want to have a quick word with you once you get out of your gear,” The coach says, briefly turning to notice Chuck. “Oh, and Chuck, you could have left at any time, so I’m going to ignore you.”

“Sounds good, coach,” Chuck says with a tired smile as he and the rest of the remaining players move off the ice to undress and pack up.

“We’ll wait for you outside, okay, Hope?” Ethan says, shouldering his bag.

“Yeah, thanks,” Hope says, packing her pads away. Once she’s done, Hope throws her bag over one shoulder and walks over to where her coach is staring at his phone. She clears her throat to get his attention.

“Oh, yeah,” The coach says, glancing at Hope with a dull look in his eyes. “Here, take a seat on the bench.”

Hope does as she’s instructed, too tired to really consider what her coach had to say to her. If she had thought about it, she could’ve guess easily.

The coach sits down next to her, leaving at least a foot of space between them. The coach was never really good at connecting with the students or talking with them or just being around them in general, so he tried to keep his distance at all costs.

“Hope, listen, you’re a good kid, and I really mean that. You’re one of the only players I never have to bug about grades or in school disciplinary issues, which is great because that’s less work for me, but you can’t keep going on like this. I know you’ve been through some shit and you’re damn good at this game, but that doesn’t give you free reign to do what ever you want on the ice. We’ve talked about this problem before and you promised me you’d try, but, Hope, I’m not seeing it,” The coach says earnestly.

Hope stares at the ground with an impassive look on her face. She gives no response.

“You know the way this works, if you get too many penalties they’re gonna kick you out of the game and then what are you gonna do. We could’ve made it to the semi-finals last year if you hadn’t gotten suspended for three games. You promised me that wasn’t going to happen again.”

“I know,” Hope murmurs.

“And it’s not just about this team. I mean it’s a high school hockey team, who really gives a shit? It’s about you. Hope, you’re good, good enough to get a full ride to basically any college you want for hockey. But if you can’t play by the rules and keep your attitude in check then none of that will matter. I want to see you succeed, Hope. I want to help you here, but if you can’t work with me… well, then there will have to be consequences.”

Hope stays silent for a long time. She’s heard this speech before. At this point, she doesn’t think there’s anything left for her to say. She is trying, or at least she’s trying to try. It’s just hard to think straight when she lets her anger out. And it’s so easy to say what she should’ve done after the fact.

“Okay,” Hope says, but it’s not particularly convincing.

“Alright, then. I want to see it at next week’s game, or this is gonna get messy.” The coach sighs and rubs his eyes. “Okay, get out. I want to go home.”

Hope picks up her stuff and heads out the door. She meets up with Maya and Ethan but doesn’t say much of anything as they throw their stuff into the car and get in.

“Did he chew you out?” Maya asks sympathetically after a long moment of silence.

“Yeah, the usual,” Hope says, her voice clipped short.

“You good?” Maya asks, turning around in the passenger seat to try and catch Hope’s gaze.

“Yeah.” Hope answers, not meeting Maya’s eyes.

“Okay.”

The ride is silent the rest of the way to Hope’s house. It’s not exactly awkward, seeing as they were all tired and relatively comfortable around each other, but Ethan and Maya could still tell something was wrong. They just didn’t know how to approach Hope about it when she didn’t seem like she wanted to talk at all.

“Text us if you need anything,” Ethan says as Hope gets out of the car.

Hope nods and gets her stuff out of the back before waving a quick goodbye and heading into her house. She fumbles a little with the key as she unlocks the front door and steps inside. She closes the door behind her and the sound echos through the hollow expanse of her house. The house is dark and silent and empty, save for Hope as she moves to turn on lights and make her way towards the kitchen.

Hope throws her hockey gear carelessly onto the floor with a forceful sigh. She moves to the fridge and opens it up to look for something to eat. There are only the bare essentials of food, nothing Hope could really eat without at least an hour of preparation. And God, does she not have the energy to do that right now.

Hope lets out a frustrated groan and closes the fridge harshly. The sound is loud, but quickly swallowed up by the soundless house. The silence around Hope suddenly feels oppressive, and,  _ God _ , it just ticks her off. Hope gives out a loud, angry growl, anything to break the silence. She kicks a chair, sending it clattering on the tile, and aggressively pushes something off the counter with a crash before she gets a hold of herself.

Hope forces her arms to her sides, hands clenched tightly into fists, as she tries to take a few deep breaths. After a long moment, her hands relax and she lets out a long sigh. She picks up the chair and carefully cleans up the vase she has shattered. Then she goes up to her room, grabs her backpack and starts to work on her homework.

Hope would usually listen to music while doing homework, but when she threw her phone after the last hockey game, because her aunt had last minute realized that she couldn’t pick her up, the headphone jack had stopped working, and she didn’t like the way music sounded echoing in the lifeless halls of her house. So she resigned herself to work enveloped in the silence. 

It’s probably around midnight when Hope gets done with all of her homework and she falls into her bed right after, only bothering enough to take off her bra before drifting off to sleep.

The next morning, Hope listens to her last alarm ring for a good fifteen minutes before she convinces herself to get up. She takes a cold shower, not bothering to wait for the water to warm up and finishing before it can get hot. She checks the temperature outside and, upon seeing that the weather has begun its annual decent into winter, she decides to dress in layers. She throws the homework she left out the night before back into her backpack, grabs her warmest coat, which happens to be her letterman’s jacket, and starts her cold walk to school.

Hope arrives at school just in time to slip into her first class before the bell rings. She doesn’t exactly sleep through her first hour, but it’d be a stretch to say she was awake. On the way out of class, however, some girl Hope barely knows comes up to her.

“Hey, Hope, I didn’t know you played hockey,” The rando girl says, startling Hope out of her tired stupor.

“What?” Hope manages in response.

“It’s surprising, really. You never seemed like the sports type to me,” The rando girl says unceremoniously before immediately walking away.

Hope barely processes the girl’s words, which is probably a good thing. Under slightly less tired circumstances, Hope probably would’ve taken that unnecessary statement as an insult. Thankfully, though, Hope is not awake enough to really be irritated by the girl, so she ignores it and walks to her next class. Her next class just so happened to be History, History with Josie and Lizzie Saltzman.

Hope groans internally upon seeing the twins, their presence conjuring up the anxiety provoking memories of the awkward car ride and interview that she has recently endured. Hope has never been very good with people, so she’s sure she has made a bad impression with both twins in the last few days. Thankfully, Hope sits at the front of the classroom so she can put the issue out of her mind relatively easily.

Later as Hope is leaving her 3rd hour, some guy talks to her unprompted.

“Hey, is it true you broke a dude’s arm at the last hockey game?” He asks.

Hope turns on him instantly with a glare. “What? No!” 

And maybe Hope couldn’t tell how harshly and aggressively she had said it, but the boy’s eyes widen immediately into a fearful expression and he takes an instinctive step back. Hope scoffs and spins around, continuing on her way to her class as the boy runs off in the opposite direction. Only once she reaches the room does she realize that her hands are still clenched into fists.

After that, Hope starts to pay more attention. She thinks she might be imagining things, but it feels like more people are looking at her. When she passes people loitering in the halls, they stop talking, almost as if they’d been talking about her. By the time lunch period starts, Hope thinks she’s become paranoid. Well, at least until her suspicions are confirmed when she passes by Lizzie Saltzman encouraging the basketball and football captains to show up to the upcoming hockey game.

“So, come on, Kaleb, Rafael, what do you think? It’d be like a sports solidarity thing, the other teams showing up to support the hockey team,” Lizzie says.

“I don’t know, Saltzman. I’ve got a big project due this Friday,” Kaleb says skeptically.

“Oh, please, you’re making MG do most of the work anyways,” Lizzie scoffs.

Kaleb chuckles. “Oh, yeah, right. Sure then, I’m in.”

“Raf?”

“I guess. Do I need to know any of the rules?” Rafael says.

“Not really, although they’re not that hard to learn. You guys will pick them up easily,” Lizzie reassures them. “But I want you guys to talk to your respective teams and try to get as many people to show up, okay?”

Hope stops dead in her tracks at this. A few cheerleaders at one game and she is already dealing with random bullshit in the halls. Hope can only imagine what people will say and think of her once the whole basketball and football teams have seen her play first hand. Hope knew Lizzie didn’t really like her, but she must really hate Hope to pull something like this.

Rafael and Kaleb nod in agreement to Lizzie’s final request and move to go back to where they had been sitting before. Lizzie also gets up, but before she can even move toward where Josie and MG are, Hope grabs her arm and drags her out of the lunch room.

“Ow, hey, what is going on?” Lizzie complains as she is dragged along. “Geez, Hope, how is your grip so strong?”

Only once they have reached an empty hallway does Hope let go. She turns to Lizzie, her glare piercing. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Hope snaps angrily.

Lizzie looks at Hope a moment, a baffled expression on her face. “Hope, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Hope looks outraged at this response. “I’m talking about you getting more people to show up to my games!”

“And? What could possibly be wrong with that?” Lizzie argues indignantly.

Hope lets out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Oh my God, are you really that self centered?” Hope snaps aggressively. “Did it really not occur to you that maybe, I don’t want more people at my games, especially not people I have to see everyday!”

Lizzie takes a step back, clearly offended, but there is genuine confusion on her face, which tells Hope that, yeah, it really didn’t occur to her.

“Then why the hell does cheer have to perform at so many of your stupid, cold games?” Lizzie snaps back.

“Because the district decided that every participating school is required to have cheer performances at home games, and our cheer team has the least number of performances on their schedule, so we had to pick up the slack. And if there had been a loophole around that requirement, trust me, I would have found it! I got kicked out of the principal’s office three days in a row for trying to argue with him when they announced it at the beginning of the season.”

Lizzie struggles to take in the information provided. Hope is actually good at hockey, why wouldn’t she want more people to watch her play? Why would she expect Lizzie to know that she didn’t?  _ Why couldn’t she just make sense? _

“Why would you care so much?” Lizzie asks emphatically, faintly aware that she is almost yelling at this point.

Hope levels her piercing glare against Lizzie’s exasperated expression. Hope’s blue eyes cut right through Lizzie in a way that makes her feel small even though she stands at least six inches taller than the other girl. Lizzie is suddenly made aware of just how fast her heart is beating and how sweaty her hands are.

“Why do  _ you _ care so much?” Hope spits out, her voice full of venom. She doesn’t waste another second, immediately pushing past Lizzie with a dismissive scoff, heading back toward the lunch room.

Lizzie stands there uncertainly for a long moment, Hope’s question echoing in her head. She probably stays there, replaying the last few minutes over in her head at least five times, trying to figure out what just happened and why it happened. She finally lets out a frustrated sigh and goes back to the lunch room. 

As she walks back to her table, her eyes scan the crowd for Hope, but she seems to have left already. Lizzie plops herself back down in her seat next to her sister, her lunch waiting exactly where she left it. Josie and MG give her questioning looks, but don’t say anything until she does.

“Guys, I think I messed up.”


	4. What is going on with you tonight?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hockey game and a heart to heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will I ever give the coach a name? Probably not.  
> Okay, so I said that Penelope would be in this chapter, but it ended up being way longer than I thought it would be, and I didn't want to awkwardly insert a scene and break the flow, so it'll have to wait until after Hope and Lizzie get their shit together.  
> Also, I actually went to a high school hockey game recently, and I got a few things wrong. I might go back and change one or two things, but I'm not going to change too much, so I don't confuse anybody (including myself)  
> I hope you guys enjoy this one, it was really fun to write. Thanks for reading!

Lizzie recounts what happened with Hope to MG and Josie for what’s left of lunch. After a bit of discussion they agree that it’s too late to undo what they’ve done. Even if they can get less people to actually show up at this point, it is too late to get people to stop talking about. The whole school is now talking about the hockey team when they didn’t even know it existed before. Josie and MG both try to convince Lizzie that it will be okay, but Lizzie is still dead set on feeling terrible by the end of lunch when they part ways.

Over the weekend, when Lizzie isn’t at work or doing homework, she’s thinking about Hope. Lizzie thinks about how she can try to make up for what she did, not that she ever really cared what Hope thinks of her, but she also never meant to hurt her. Lizzie thinks about why Hope was so upset by what she did in the first place, because she still can’t figure it out. She thinks about how she’s been making incorrect assumptions about Hope for years, and, now that those have been proven wrong, she has nothing to replace them with. And sometimes, she just thinks about how strong Hope’s grip is, for whatever reason.

When Monday rolls around, Lizzie knows she needs to apologise, but she doesn’t know how. She’s sure that Hope doesn’t want to talk to her and even if she does, Lizzie has no idea what she’s going to say. Lizzie has never been good at apologies. Whenever she fights with Josie she just waits a day or two and then brings her sister a baked good and then everything is back to normal. Lizzie has a feeling that approach will not work on Hope.

Lizzie tries to make eye contact and get Hope’s attention when she sees her in History, but it doesn’t work. Hope keeps her eyes on the floor and, honestly, looks like the least approachable person. When Lizzie brings the issue up at lunch, Josie suggests giving Hope some space first, but Lizzie doesn’t like that answer, so she ignores it. Even still, Lizzie doesn’t even see Hope again that day.

The next day, Lizzie is nervous. The hockey game is that night, and Lizzie still doesn’t know what to say to Hope. And she doubts that Hope will be anymore forgiving at the game then at school. When Lizzie arrives at the game with MG and Josie, she can see that the stands are much more full of people than they had been the previous week. Lizzie can easily spot people that she knows in the crowd. She waves to Kaleb as Josie and MG go to join him and she goes to warm up with the cheer squad. She finds herself looking for Hope among the players without even thinking about it as she walks over.

When Ethan and Maya pick up Hope for the game that night, they can tell something is off immediately. Maybe it’s the way Hope throws her stuff into the back more carelessly than usual or the way she closes the door a little too hard. Or maybe it’s the way that Hope says nothing on the entire ride over. Ethan and Maya give up on trying to get Hope talk after only a couple tries, the other girl giving absolutely no response.

Ethan and Maya share a concerned look as they arrive at the rink. As soon as the car stops, Hope jumps out, grabs her stuff, and immediately heads for the doors, not bothering to wait for her teammates or even sparing them a glance. It’s definitely not the first time Ethan and Maya have seen Hope like this, but it’s rarely this bad.

When they walk inside, Hope walks right past the coach and starts warming up without a word. Ethan and Maya watch for the coach’s response, expecting him to scold Hope for her attitude, but it never comes. Instead, the coach just watches Hope with a seemingly thoughtful expression before walking over to Ethan and Maya.

“How is she tonight?” The coach asks.

“She seems pretty upset, but I don’t know what’s wrong,” Ethan explains and Maya nods in agreement.

The coach heaves a sigh. “Just do your warm up. I’ll want to talk to you two once you’re geared up.”

The siblings agree and start their laps. The rest of the players show up in the next few minutes. Once everyone is geared up, the coach directs them to start running a few drills on the ice, but pulls the Machados and Chuck off to the side.

“What’s going on?” Chuck asks.

“Listen, I want you three to keep an eye on Hope tonight. I figured you jokers know her pretty well,” The coach addresses Ethan and Maya before turning to Chuck, “and, I guess, you go to school with her.” The coach shrugs and continues, “Tonight is not going to be an easy night for her, so just make sure she’s keeping her grip and let me know if she looks like she’s about to break something, okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” Maya says instantly, a concerned look on her face. “What is it about tonight that makes things different?”

The coach seems to consider the question before taking a deep breath and lowering his voice. “Okay, so, Hope doesn’t like to talk about this and if she finds out that I told you kids, she’ll probably clock me, so do go being weird about it, understand?”

The three kids nod in agreement.

“Tonight is the anniversary of Hope’s parents’ death, and she takes it pretty hard every year. We’ve talked about it a little, and I usually let her take the night off from practice if we have it. I always hoped the date would never land on a game day, but the universe thinks it’s pretty funny, so here we are. So, just tell me if you think I need to pull her out to take a breather and we can just try and get through tonight, okay?”

“Of course, coach,” Ethan says.

“Okay, good. Don’t forget to keep your mouths shut about me telling you. Now get on the ice, people are going to start showing up soon,” The coach says sternly, but he sounds more tired than anything.

Lizzie listens to people talk in the stands as she waits for her performance, her eyes watching where the coach of the Mystic Wolves seems to be giving the team a pep talk. She overhears a few people talking about how the opposing team that night is supposed to be one of the top teams in the league. Lizzie glances over at the other team, and, yeah, they look like a bunch of spoiled rich kids who spend to much time doing one thing.

Lizzie’s eyes wander back over to Hope sitting on the bench, staring blankly at her coach with a vaguely irritated expression on her face. Lizzie can feel her heartbeat pick up a little just looking at Hope, probably just because she’s nervous about pissing her off.

After finishing the cheer first performance, Lizzie joins Josie, MG, Kaleb, and a few of the Salvatore football players to watch the game. Lizzie sits, knees bouncing in anticipation and to stay warm. She knows it should be a close game.

The players line up and the puck is dropped, and Lizzie can tell that something is wrong instantly. Hope is playing very much like herself (as Lizzie basically committed the last game to memory, she can tell), but there’s something off. Some of her moves are sloppy, throwing herself to far in one direction or missing a hip check because she didn’t anticipate the player’s movement. It’s true you could write off the difference as the opposite team just being good, but Lizzie feels like she can see Hope getting frustrated.

The crowd is very engaged by the close game and Lizzie can’t help but feel a little proud every time the football players break out into a cheer when the goalie blocks a shot or the forwards get close to the goal. Even still, there is a small pit of dread in Lizzie’s stomach as she watches Hope’s moves get less deliberate and more angry as the game goes on.

About 10 minutes into the game, Hope has made one goal and has almost gotten called for hooking at least three times. But as the clock ticks on, the puck starts to spend more time on the Wolves’s half of the ice. During one play, the puck gets sent around around the back of the goal, and Hope comes in to recover it, but she is smashed up against the guard by two of the opposing players. Within seconds, the opposing team as shot the puck into the goal, just barely being missed by the Mystic Wolves goalie. The point is added on the score board, tying the score, and a whistle rings to signal the end of the play.

Lizzie swears she can hear the aggravated sound Hope makes once she recovers and sees that the other team has scored, but what Lizzie is positive that she hears is the loud crack that sounds through the rink as Hope breaks her hockey stick in two with her bare hands. There is a moment of deafening silence as the everyone in the rink stares in shock, but the moment is quickly broken by the refs blowing their whistles several times. They don’t seem to know what penalty to call, seeing as they have probably never seen a teenage girl break a hockey stick with her bare hands. 

Fortunately for the refs, the Wolves’ coach is already yelling. “Alright, that’s it, Hope! You’re done! Get off the ice!” The coach screams, his face turning red.

“What!” Hope snaps, not moving.

“I told you what would happen! Get out! You’re done!”

Hope opens her mouth to argue again, but seems to think better of it as she skates over to the side. She growls angrily under breath as she throws the broken pieces of her stick aggressively over the side of the barrier before throwing herself over it as well.

The coach keeps yelling at Hope as she angrily stomps off into the lockerroom. She disappears behind the door, purposefully closing it with a slam.

Maya skates over to the edge, looking after Hope with a worried look.

“What do you think you’re doing, Machado? You’ve got a game to play! Get back in line!” The coach snaps, before directing someone to sub in for Hope.

Maya reluctantly takes her place in the line up, gaze still drifting to where Hope disappeared.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe Josie missed that,” MG says in the stands next to Lizzie. Josie had only left a minute ago, having gotten up to get some refreshments.

Lizzie’s brain doesn’t even process MG’s words, her eyes locked on the lockerroom door that Hope disappeared into. “Hey, MG, I’ll be right back,” Lizzie says abruptly, getting up and walking down the bleachers without waiting for a response.

Lizzie walks around the edge of the rink, until she reaches the back where the lockerroom is. Nobody seems to notice that she is there, the game having resumed. Lizzie doesn’t really know what she’s thinking, as this is clearly a bad idea, but she turns the knob on the door and walks in anyways.

As Lizzie makes her way deeper into the lockerroom, she can here sounds of something hitting a metal locker inside. There is an obvious trail of recklessly discarded hockey gear leading right to where Lizzie assumes Hope is. When Lizzie turns the corner she sees Hope growl and get up from a bench, reeling her arm back, seemingly to throw something more than all the things she’s already thrown.

Lizzie, despite her better judgement, rushes forward and puts her hands on Hope’s arm to stop her from throwing what is now clearly her already cracked phone. “Hey, woah, woah!” Lizzie exclaims as her hands wrap around Hope’s bicep to hold her back.

“Lizzie?” Hope immediately stops in surprise, her head turning to see the girl next to her. Her eyebrows are furrowed deeply in confusion. Her chest is heaving and Lizzie can feel her muscles are tensed all through her arm. Lizzie silently notes how strong Hope’s arm feels under her hands. “What are you doing here?” Hope asks, her voice lacking any blatant hostility in favor of utter confusion.

“Clearly, I’m keeping you from turning that piece of junk you call a phone into breakfast cereal against that wall,” Lizzie says, realizing that she is breathing almost as hard as Hope is.

That doesn’t seem to clear up any confusion for Hope, as she only furrows her brow more. She opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Lizzie, still eyeing Hope’s extremely damaged phone in concern, decides not to wait for her response.

“And, considering that you look like you’re trying to choke someone to death, I’m just going to take that for a little bit,” Lizzie says, taking the phone from Hope’s hand, which releases it’s clenched grip to let her. She gently places Hope’s phone on the bench and takes a slight step back out of Hope’s personal space. Lizzie feels a little proud, noticing that Hope’s breathing has gotten more stable just from the sheer confusion of her unexpected intervention.

After a moment, Hope seems to recover a little, some of the anger and irritation coming back to her expression. “Lizzie, what the hell are you doing here?” Hope snaps, taking a step back from where she still stands fairly close to Lizzie.

Lizzie is a little offended, but forces herself not to let it show. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Lizzie answers, surprised by how genuine she sounds.

Hope huffs a little. “Well, I’m fine,” She spits out angrily, giving a fallen piece of equipment a light kick.

Lizzie lets out a sharp, sarcastic laugh. “That’s rich coming from the girl that just broke a hockey stick with her bare hands,” Lizzie comments with a challenging look.

“I  _ am _ fine, not that it’s any of your goddamn business, I just…” Hope growls out, finishing her sentence by giving the row of locker nearest to her a hard shove. Her hands come back to clench tightly at her sides as she glares the wall.

Lizzie doesn’t flinch at the violent movement. It actually reminds Lizzie a lot of her episodes. She knows that type of destructive behavior well and it doesn’t faze her. Lizzie’s worst impulses are also quite fond of property damage. Lizzie’s eyes fall on Hope’s clenched fists and she speaks before she can think better of it.

“Hope, you need relax your hands or you’re going to hurt yourself,” Lizzie says in a scolding tone. She takes an unconscious step towards Hope, which some people might call a bad idea, but Lizzie never let that stop her before.

“How the fuck would you know?” Hope snaps through gritted teeth.

“Because I do the same fucking thing, and I can see your fingernails digging into your palms, so just---” Lizzie snaps back, before stepping forward and taking one of Hope’s clenched fists in her hands.

Hope’s eyes go wide and what ever response she might’ve had dies on her lips. She let’s Lizzie take her hand and manually unfold her fingers, forcing her hand into a relaxed state. Hope watches the way that Lizzie’s brow furrows in concentration as she moves to Hope’s other hand. Hope can feel her heartbeat and breathing stabilize as she stays frozen in uncertainty. 

“There,” Lizzie says, taking a step back. She ignores the disappointment she feels at letting go of Hope’s hands. Lizzie’s hands are just cold and Hope’s are warm. That’s all.

Hope just stares at Lizzie with those extremely blue eyes, confusion and apprehension on her face. She doesn’t say anything or move at all, seemingly trying to size Lizzie up.

Lizzie rolls her eyes after a moment. “So, are you really going to try to tell me that you’re fine after that?” Lizzie says, sitting down on the bench behind her and raising an eyebrow at Hope.

The edges of Hope’s mouth twitch into a very slight smile. “I guess it wouldn’t be very convincing, huh?” Hope mumbles, meeting Lizzie’s gaze with an unreadable expression.

Lizzie shakes her head with a sympathetic look. She pats the bench next to her. “What is going on with you tonight?” Lizzie asks earnestly.

Hope considers Lizzie for a long moment before sitting down. She silent for another long moment as she stares at the ground, trying to think of how to explain her anger, something she’s never really tried to do before. She lets out a long sigh before starting.

“Tonight… is the anniversary of my parents’ death,” Hope says, plainly, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Oh my God, Hope, I’m so sorry,” Lizzie says automatically, her eyes going wide in surprise.

“Yeah, everybody is, never makes it any easier though,” Hope says bitterly.

Lizzie instinctively reaches out a hand and lays it lightly over Hope’s. Hope doesn’t move, so Lizzie keeps her hand there as she waits for Hope to continue.

“Um, I usually take the day off to hang out with my aunts, but, I have a game, obviously, and they haven’t even texted me back yet today, so…” Hope trails off when her voice starts to crack.

“Wait, don’t you live with them?”

“Um, sort of. They both live other places and have other lives, but they try to be here with me as much as they can. It’s just bad timing this year. My aunt Rebekah is like on the other side of the world right now, and Aunt Freya is tied up with both her wife and their son being sick with the flu. It’s really not their fault.” Hope explains, having no idea why she was sharing so much with Lizzie.

Lizzie listens closely and nods understandingly, giving Hope’s hand a gentle squeeze whenever her hands start to tense up again.

“Hope, that’s terrible,” Lizzie pauses in thought for a moment. “Oh God, and I just made everything worse with my dumb stunt this week. Hope, I’m so sorry. I should’ve considered how it would affect you and whether or not you wanted people to know you played hockey. I’m really sorry.”

“Thank you,” Hope says softly.

And Lizzie really means to say something else in response. She had planned on asking Hope if there was anything she could do to make it up to her, accepting whatever answer she gives, and moving on. That’s definitely what she should’ve done, but she doesn’t.

“Although, I still don’t know why it bothers you so much,” Lizzie murmurs, despite her better judgement.

Hope blinks a few times at Lizzie before scoffing. Hope turns to face Lizzie more, consequently moving her hand out from under Lizzie’s. “Are serious right now, Lizzie?” Hope says, honestly baffled by how ridiculous this girl could be.

Lizzie only shrugs in response, already knowing that she’s made a mistake.

“Lizzie, you’ve seen me play. Why do you think I wouldn’t want more people to watch me?”

“I don’t know, you’re really good.”

“I’m an asshole!” Hope says a little too loudly. She watches Lizzie closely, and upon seeing that the other girl really doesn’t get it, she continues, “The things I do on the ice are things that I would never do anywhere else. I just --- I deal with my shit on the ice. I let out my anger and my problems when I play. It’s kind of personal.”

And with the last few words, the light bulb goes off in Lizzie’s head. Her eyes widen in realization and she looks horrified.

“Oh my God. Oh my God! I-I invited a bunch of people to come and see you cope. I brought the whole school to watch you work through your trauma. Oh jesus,” Lizzie groans and buries her face in her hands.

Hope honestly can’t help but find Lizzie a little cute in that moment. There is something very nice about learning that somebody really never meant to hurt you. Especially since, Lizzie is clearly trying to make up for it. Hope can imagine a world in which what Lizzie did would’ve been a very nice thing, they just didn’t happen to live in that world.

Hope takes one of Lizzie’s wrists in her hands and brings it away from her face. Lizzie nervously meets Hope’s gaze.

“It’s okay, Lizzie, you didn’t know. I can’t really blame you too much for that when I probably could’ve just told Josie when she interviewed me that I wasn’t comfortable with it. Plus, this whole thing will probably make Chuck pretty happy,” Hope says, reflecting a little on everything that had happened in the last week. God, it has been a really weird week.

Lizzie raises her face up to look Hope in her eyes. She looks like she’s about to say something when a buzzer sounds from out in the rink. Lizzie’s eyes go wide at the sound.

“Oh, shit, is it halftime? I have to get back to cheer,” Lizzie exclaims, jumping to her feet. She looks ready to sprint out of the lockerroom, but she stops and looks back at Hope. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’m just going to stay and clean this stuff up,” Hope says, gesturing to the gear that had been thrown around the room.

Lizzie hesitates one more time, catching Hope’s eye. “Are we good?” Lizzie asks, sincerely, and she’s caught by how much she really cares.

Hope thinks for a moment and says, “Yeah, we’re good, and, hey, maybe I’ll see you out there.”

Lizzie nods, thinking that she would very much like that, and heads quickly out the door. She jogs around the rink, meeting up with her squad just in time to start. A few of the girls give her dirty looks for being late, but Lizzie doesn’t really care. Once the performance is over, the girls disperse and Lizzie goes back up into the stands where Kaleb and MG are.

“Hey, is Josie still not back yet?” Lizzie asks when she sits down, noticing the absence of her sister.


	5. Who even is this girl?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penelope quirks up an eyebrow. “I mean, it’s a little forward, but I’ve never been one to complain,” She says suggestively.
> 
> Josie feels her face heat up again as she glances down at the floor. She tries to say something in response, but she just sort of makes a choking sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm alive! I got some serious writer's block and then I got really busy, so basically a writing death sentence. I'm still pretty busy, but I limp on.  
> Anyways, Enjoy!

“Hey, I’m going to get a drink. You guys want anything?” Josie asks as she gets up to leave.

“Sprite, please,” Lizzie says, her brow furrowed deeply as her eyes never leave Hope.

Josie rolls her eyes a little at her sister. “MG?”

“No, I’m good, thanks,” MG answers, his gaze curiously following Lizzie’s, trying and failing to see what she finds so interesting.

“Okay,” Josie says, starting down the bleachers. She glances at the game as she makes her way around the rink and over to the concessions. It looks different from ground level. She can barely see the puck, but she can see the players’ faces much easier. She thinks some of the players are pretty cute, but then shakes her head at the thought. She can’t imagine a hockey player ever wanting to date her.

Josie orders two drinks at the concession stand and waits patiently for the few seconds it takes for the person to fill up the cups and hand them back to her. Just as the drinks are in her hands, Josie is startled by several sharp whistles coming from the rink. The whistles are followed closely by sounds of shouting and more commotion. Josie groans at her terrible timing and rushes back in the direction of the game, hoping to at least catch the tail end of whatever happened.

However, in her haste to get back to the rink, Josie doesn’t see the girl she crosses paths with until the two have already collided, spilling soda everywhere.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry!” Josie exclaims before she has even had a chance to catch her breath.

Josie expects an outraged response, admonishing her for her clumsiness or lack of awareness, or at least some irritation, but instead she gets a small chuckle and a raised eyebrow.

“Good call on the clear soda,” The other girl says casually as she looks down at her drenched outfit. Then she raises her eyes to look at the person who’s soda is all over her, and a smirk slides easily onto her face.

“I’m really sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going. It was completely my fault,” Josie rambles nervously despite the girl not looking the slightest bit bothered.

The girl laughs at that and Josie really has no idea how to respond. “Hey, I don’t mind. It’s not everyday I get to run into a beautiful girl,” The girl says smoothly, her eyes looking Josie up and down.

Josie freezes, another apology half way out of her mouth. She feels heat rush to her face as her brain struggles to process exactly what is happening. “What?” Josie blurts out nervously, painfully aware of the soggy cups crushed in her hands and the drips coming off of the other girl’s outfit.

The girl’s smirk widens and she extends a hand toward Josie. “I’m Penelope,” She says, seemingly unbothered by being doused in sprite.

“Oh, I’m Josie,” Josie says. She goes to shake Penelope’s hand, but halfway there remembers the soggy cup in each hand and stops. She looks around for a moment, trying to find a solution to the problem, but her brain is still playing catch up.

Penelope shakes her head and smiles at Josie. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” She says, dropping her outstretched hand.

Finally, Josie’s mind seems to catch up and she starts to try and fix the unfortunate situation she’s created. 

“Oh, um, here, give me a second,” Josie stammers anxiously, moving over to the nearest trash can to throw out the remains of the sodas she had bought. She returns quickly to Penelope, who looks at her with a slightly amused expression. Josie looks Penelope up and down, not because she’s checking her out or anything, just to try and think of how she can help. After a moment, Josie says, “God, I feel awful. Why don’t we go to the bathroom and I can try and help you dry off?”

Penelope quirks up an eyebrow. “I mean, it’s a little forward, but I’ve never been one to complain,” She says suggestively.

Josie feels her face heat up again as she glances down at the floor. She tries to say something in response, but she just sort of makes a choking sound.

Penelope laughs, and Josie thinks it’s a very nice laugh. “I’m just messing with you. Now come on, let’s go, it’s starting to get kinda cold,” She says with a little shiver.

Josie nods and leads the way, having completely forgotten about her interest in the commotion that had led to the collision in the first place. She keeps her eyes on the ground, hoping Penelope can’t see the blush on her cheeks.

When they make it to the bathroom, Penelope hops up onto the counter and wrings out part of her shirt into the sink. Josie takes this moment to really look at the girl who’s night she has likely ruined. Penelope is gorgeous, so gorgeous that Josie almost doesn’t feel bad for staring, almost. She has dark hair, startlingly dark eyes, and when she pulls at her shirt to wring it out, it exposes a little strip of her stomach that Josie knows she shouldn’t be looking at. Josie fidgets with her hands as she stands awkwardly a few feet away.

“Hand me a paper towel, would you?” Penelope says, still focused on the damp cloth she’s positioned over the sink.

Josie nods, gaze lingering on the exposed skin, and moves to the paper towel dispenser. She grabs two big handful and hurries back. Penelope extends a hand to take the towels, but when she reaches them, she doesn’t grab them.

“Um, wanna hand me them one at a time, there, Josie?” Penelope says, with a little laugh.

“Oh, right,” Josie mumbles, putting the bunched up paper towels down on the counter. Then she takes just one and places it into Penelope’s outstretched hand.

“Thanks,” Penelope says, patting down her damp clothes with the towel. “So, you come here often?” She says after a moment. There is a smirk on her lips as she glances at Josie out of the corner of her eye.

Josie can feel Penelope’s gaze on her as she hands her another paper towel. “Not until recently. My sister just learned that our school is part of a hockey team and now she’s suddenly really into hockey and dragging me to all the games.”

Penelope lets out a light chuckle. “Really? What school?”

“Salvatore. We’re part of the Mystic Wolves.”

“I see. And you just let your sister drag you to all the games?”

“Well, she’s on the cheer squad that performs at half time and she’s definitely got a crush on one of the players, so I like to be here to support her.”

“It doesn’t bother you?” Penelope asks, her eyes piercing into Josie.

Josie blinks a few times in surprise at the odd sincerity that Penelope’s question has. It leaves a weird feeling in her chest that she can’t identify.

“No, it’s not so bad. This sport is actually kind of growing on me,” Josie says with a slight laugh. “What about you? What team are you here for?”

“Oh, no, I’m just here for the hot dogs. Best in the state,” Penelope says, her face impassive, and Josie can’t tell if she’s kidding or not.

“I’m sorry, what?” Josie says, once again finding herself at a loss for words.

Penelope laughs, her serious facade breaking into an extremely amused one. “I’m just kidding, oh god, can you imagine?” Penelope says with a sigh as she composes herself. “I’m actually not a big fan of hockey. I’m just here with my cousin, who’s really into one of the teams, I don’t remember which one.”

“Huh, I guess we’re both here because of other people, then,” Josie says.

“I suppose so. Some might call that fate,” Penelope says suggestively.

Josie laughs awkwardly, not really sure how else to respond to that. _Who even was this girl?_

“So, outside of hockey, what’s your favorite sport?” Penelope asks.

“Oh, um, I’m not that big on sports honestly. I’m more of a speech and debate kind of girl,” Josie says a little hesitantly, worried that Penelope will be less interested in her once she learns how big of a nerd she is.

“Really? What category?” Penelope says, if anything sounding more interested.

Josie’s eyes brighten. “Oh, Moments in history. Are you also in speech and debate?” She asks uncertainly.

Penelope nods and gives a small laugh at Josie’s sudden burst of enthusiasm.

“What category?” Josie asks, much too excitedly for someone talking about competitive public speaking.

“Lincoln-Douglas.”

“Oh my god, of course you’re a debater, of course you are,” Josie says animatedly, rolling her eyes.

Penelope looks at Josie in mock offense and hops off the bathroom counter, moving toward her. “Excuse me, what is that supposed to mean? You got something against debaters?”

“Absolutely! I’m sorry but if I have to hear about that joke case about eradicating squirrels one more time, I’m going to lose it,” Josie says adamantly.

Penelope’s smirk only gets wider. “I wrote that case.”

Josie bursts out laughing. “Seriously? You are literally the bane of my existence.”

“Glad to be of service,” Penelope says smugly.

It’s only then that Josie realizes how close Penelope has gotten to her while they were talking. Penelope is only a few inches away. Josie feels too warm and too cold at the same time, and entirely unsure of what to do next.

“You’re really cute when you’re nervous,” Penelope says, making Josie feel small even though she is significantly taller.

“Thanks,” Josie mumbles.

“Want my number?” Penelope asks smoothly and smugly, like she knows exactly much power she has over Josie right now.

“Oh,” is all Josie manages to say in response, but she fumbles in her pocket for her phone, opens it, and hands it too Penelope.

Penelope chuckles lightly as she makes herself a contact. She hesitates for a moment before going into the contact and sending herself a message. A buzz sounds in her pocket and she hands Josie her phone back.

“See you around, Jojo,” Penelope calls over her shoulder as she walks out of the bathroom.

It takes Josie a minute or so to recover, and even after she has started to head back to the game, she still feels dazed. She goes back to the stands and takes a seat next to her sister. After a moment, Josie realizes that she has already missed halftime, and her sister is giving her an expectant look.

“So, what did I miss?” Josie says, looking around confused at strange looks her friends are giving her.

“Um, like everything.” Lizzies says, before sighing and beginning to go over everything that happened, although leaving out some of the specifics of her talk with Hope for the girl’s privacy.

“Oh, geez, I missed a lot, huh?” Josie responds, having trouble processing all of it at the same time. “I’m glad you and Hope figured it out though.”

Lizzie smiles softly. “Yeah, me too. But seriously, Jo. Where were you? You said you were going to get sodas, which shouldn’t take you like 20 minutes, and then you don’t even have any soda when you come back.”

Josie goes over in her head everything that happened in the last 20 minutes, trying to find the best way to explain it. “I got a girl’s number,” Josie says, not really sure if it’s the best explanation, but it is the only thing she can think about.

Lizzie’s eyes go wide. “No way! That’s awesome, Jo! Who is it?”

“Her name’s Penelope. I don’t know what school she goes to, but she said that her cousin brought her to the game, so probably not either of these schools.”

“That’s really cool, Josie. Congrats,” MG says.

“Thanks,” Josie says, smiling to herself as the group’s attention is drawn back to the game when the action picks up.

Lizzie watches the Wolves struggle without Hope on the ice, even as they manage to keep the score tied. Every so often, as Lizzie watches, her gaze drifts over to the locker room door, her mind wandering to the girl inside. After about ten minutes, Hope finally emerges from the locker room, completely dressed down of gear. Hope is wearing an under armour long sleeve underneath her hockey jersey and a pair of well fitted sweatpants. Lizzie would never have thought that Hope could pull off the jock look so well, but it’s hard to argue with results.

Hope makes her way over to the bench, sitting with her teammates to watch the rest of the game. Once again, Lizzie finds herself watching Hope more than the game itself. This time, Lizzie tells herself it’s because she wants to make sure Hope is okay. She sees Hope talk a little with some of her teammates, mostly Chuck, and sees her get up and cheer when the action gets tense. Lizzie finds Hope’s clear investment in the team very charming giving the circumstances.

The game is a real nail biter to the end, but the opposing team comes out on top, the score 2-1. Lizzie is surprised to see how much enthusiasm is still present among the Salvatore students despite the loss. It certainly was an eventful game, win or lose. Lizzie listens vaguely to Rafael talk animatedly as he and some of the basketball players make their way out of the bleachers. She even sees Kaleb talking to a Mystic Falls kid, which is pretty cool.

Lizzie, MG, and Josie make their way over to the other side of the rink, hoping to say a few words to the passing players. They wait a little off to the side, as a group of the Wolves’s players stick around, discussing something.

“Great job, guys,” Hope says as the players come off the rink after the final buzzer.

“Thanks, Hope,” Maya says, pulling her helmet off as she vaults over the side of the barrier.

“Yeah, thanks, Hope. Did you get out all splinters?” Ethan asks, gesturing to Hope’s hands.

Hope gives him a little glare and rolls her eyes. “Very funny, Ethan,” She says sarcastically, the joke drawing a small smile out of her.

While Hope waits around for the rest of her team to get undressed, the coach comes over to check in with her.

“You okay?” The coach asks, his gruff voice softening slightly in genuine concern.

Hope sighs. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good,” The coach pauses, “I don’t think I need to say anything else, do I?”

Hope shakes her head, glad he is giving her the option to not be scolded right now. “No, sir,” she says, not meeting her coach’s gaze.

“Okay. Have a good night, Hope.”

Hope nods as the coach walks away. After a moment, she feels a hand clap her on the shoulder.

“Hey, Hope!” Ethan says, as he comes up behind her.

Hope rolls her eyes and pushes Ethan’s hand off her shoulder.

Ethan looks a little disappointed, but he tries not to let it show. “So, Maya and I were thinking that we should go and drown our sorrows in a little post game pizza. You in?”

Maya pushes her brother out of the way, so that she is next to Hope now. “What my idiot brother is trying to say, is some of the team is going out for pizza, if you want to come. But if not, we can still take you home.”

Hope considers the offer for a second. She’s exhausted and would really like to go collapse on her bed. On the other hand, she really hates the idea of going back to an empty house, especially tonight. Maybe a distraction would be nice.

“I’m in,” Hope says, smiling slightly at the way Maya and Ethan’s eyes go wide at her response.

“Wait, really?” The siblings exclaim, almost in unison.

“I mean, cool, that’s cool,” Ethan says, clearing his throat. “I’m going to go let Chuck know.”

Maya turns to Hope after Ethan has walked away. “Hey, are you okay?” She asks, gently.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Hope says, not really feeling any truth behind those words.

Maya nods thoughtfully. “Well, I mean, I heard pizza is basically a cure all, so…”

Hope laughs lightly as the two of them head over to where the rest of the team is gathered. A few people have gone home already, but a good number are planning on going out for pizza. They stand around in a clump, figuring out ride arrangements.

“Alright, so Maya and I have got Hope and Chuck. Issac, you’ve got Hunter, Quinn, and AJ. And Brian, you’re just driving yourself. Is everybody good?” Ethan clarifies over the din of his teammates. There is a round of agreements that follows.

Ethan turns to Chuck, who is seemingly looking at something in the departing crowd. “You ready to go, dude?”

“Um, just a second,” Chuck says, moving away from the group, toward where Josie, Lizzie, and MG are standing. His eyes light up when he makes eye contact with Josie.

“Hey, Chuck,” Josie says with a smile, when the boy approaches her.

“Hi, Josie. Did you see how many kids from school were here? It was amazing! I can’t believe your article did that,” Chuck says animatedly.

Josie has to stop herself from laughing at the irony of his statement, seeing as Lizzie is really the one who did all the leg work. “Um, yeah, sometimes all you have to do is get people talking,” Josie says, sharing a knowing look with her sister.

“Well, I just wanted to say thanks. This was one of the coolest games all season. Also I read your article, and it was amazing! You’re a really good writer,” Chuck say enthusiastically.

“Thanks so much,” Josie says, feeling self conscious at the attention.

Chuck looks like he is about to turn back around to the team, but instead he addresses Josie again. “You know, some of the team is going out for pizza right now. You could come if you want,” He says, a little hopeful look in his eye.

Josie turns to look at Lizzie.

“I don’t see why not,” Lizzie says with a shrug and an obvious glance at Hope.

“Yeah, that sounds fun, Chuck,” Josie answers. She turns to MG behind her. “You wanna come, MG?”

“Oh, I would, but I’ve got to finish up Kaleb’s English project tonight. I’ll see you guys tomorrow though,” MG says, moving to catch up with Kaleb.

“Awesome! You guys should come on over then and meet everybody,” Chuck says, leading them over to the group of hockey players with an infectious enthusiasm.

Chuck gets a few of the player’s attention before introducing introducing them. “Hey, guys, this is Josie. She’s the one who wrote that awesome piece about us for the school newspaper. I invited her to come with us, if that’s okay?”

“Yeah, that’s cool, Chuck,” Ethan says, before getting a vaguely worried expression. “They don’t need rides, do they?”

“Oh, no, we’re good,” Josie says, quickly.

Ethan looks extremely relieved at this. “Well, it’s nice to meet you then, Josie. Appreciate the rep,” Ethan says before turning to Lizzie. “And, who’s this?”

“Oh, this is my sister, Lizzie.”

Ethan furrows his brow at Lizzie for a brief second. “Oh, you’re on the cheer squad, right? Good stuff, good stuff. I know Mikaelson over here is a fan,” Ethan says, throwing a teasing smirk at Hope.

Hope jerks her head in the direction she heard her name. She had been listening to the conversation, but she hadn’t been expecting it to include her at all. “What?” She says, walking closer.

“I said, you’re a fan of the cheerleaders, right, Hope?” Ethan says suggestively, giving Hope a playful jab in the side.

Hope’s face gets a little red at the insinuation and at the raised eyebrow that Lizzie is giving her. Hope takes a second to recover before giving a chuckle. “Well, you can’t blame me for having good taste,” She says, her eyes rising to meet Lizzie’s.

Honestly, a confident line is the last thing that Lizzie expects to come out of Hope’s mouth. Compared to the Hope that Lizzie thought she knew before, the one that hardly ever spoke, the one that didn’t go out at night, the one who got perfect grades, this Hope almost seems like a whole different person. It makes Lizzie question a lot of different things, but mostly, it makes her question how much she has left to learn about Hope. At this rate, Lizzie doesn’t think she’ll ever be done learning new things about her.

Still, Lizzie is not going to let herself be shown up by Hope Mikaelson. “Good taste? That depends on who you’re looking at,” Lizzie says with a smirk.

Hope laughs, but says nothing, obviously not having a winning response.

“Okay, well, we should get going. Josie, do you know where Danny’s pizza place is?” Ethan asks, slinging a bag over his shoulder.

“Yeah, I think so,” Josie answers.

“Okay, see you there,” Ethan says, a couple people waving as they turn to walk away.


	6. I Just Miss Them, You Know?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzie stands there, just watching Hope for a second, trying to figure out how to approach the girl. She gets a little side tracked at the way the street lamp illuminates Hope’s face in an almost ethereal glow, casting light over her drawn, tired face and soft blue eyes. Only once Hope flickers her phone screen on to check her notifications does Lizzie finally understand what’s going on and walk over.
> 
> Hope doesn’t acknowledge Lizzie’s presence as she takes a seat on the ground next to her, their shoulders brushing slightly. A cold wind blows past them and Lizzie really wishes that she had thought to bring her coat with her.
> 
> “I take it your aunts haven’t texted you back yet?” Lizzie says after a long moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy Folks!  
> Thanks for all of the comments on the last chapter! You guys are amazing and I love you!  
> Also, I swear, I don't actually have any opinion on pizza toppings, despite what this chapter may imply, so don't @ me.  
> Enjoy!

When Josie and Lizzie arrive at the pizza place, the hockey players are pushing some tables together to make one big enough for all of them to sit at. Chuck spots them, his face lighting up as he waves them over. They walk toward the conglomerated tables just as everyone starts to take their seats. Lizzie tries to ignore the disappointment she feels when Ethan and Maya immediately take the two seats on either side of Hope. She reluctantly takes the seat next to Ethan, having to lean around him to say hi to Hope.

Hope greets Lizzie with a small smile, pushing on Ethan’s shoulder momentarily so he isn’t obstructing her view. Lizzie thinks that Hope looks pretty tired, despite only playing for the first half of the game, but there is also a light in her eyes that looks a lot like genuine joy. Lizzie’s fairly certain that she’s never seen Hope with that look in her eyes before, and she has to say it’s really nice to see.

Much like at the rink, Lizzie finds herself mostly glancing at Hope as the table starts to discuss and eventually argue about what pizzas to order. The part that really captures Lizzie’s attention, though, is that Hope is one of the people arguing most adamantly. Lizzie doesn’t think she’s ever seen Hope look so comfortable in a group of people. Also, who knew that Hope was a ranch on pizza kind of girl?

“Okay, so what I’m getting from this is you guys,” Ethan says, gesturing toward two of the hockey players on the other side of the table, “want to be heretics who put pineapple on pizza, Hope, over here, wants to end all life on earth as we know it with her abomination, and the rest of you are good with cheese or pepperoni. Does that sound right?” 

“Hey, there is nothing wrong with ranch on pizza!” Hope insists, looking around the table for someone that will agree with her.

“I’m sorry, Hope, but that’s just not true,” Maya says, an exaggerated look of concern on her face. A few other players nod in agreement.

Hope huffs and throws her hands up in exasperation. “Whatever, you guys can’t stop me anyways, so fuck you,” She says, playfully indigant.

“That’s okay, Hope. We’ll still love you, no matter what hellish abomination of a pizza you unleash upon us,” Ethan says, melodramatically leaning into Hope like he is going to faint.

Hope laughs and pushes him away, rolling her eyes.

Lizzie rolls her eyes at Ethan too, but hers is much less fond and much more irritated than Hope’s. And, sure, maybe, Lizzie is only bothered by Ethan because he gets to sit next to Hope, and joke and laugh and be stupid next to her. And, yeah, Lizzie kind of wishes it had been her who had gotten to lean in real close to Hope, but that’s just because this is Lizzie’s first chance to get to know her outside of school and she wants to make the most of it by not having some dumb jock get inbetween them.

Lizzie is a little surprised by the suddenness of her own irritation. She’s always considered herself to be a petty person, but even this is a little too petty for her. She takes a few deep breaths to try and wash away the weird tightness in her chest, waving Josie off when she gives her a concerned look. She’s just being weirdly irrational right now, for some reason.

Once the table places their orders with a very tired looking and not at all amused waiter, the conversation quickly becomes about hockey and hockey related things, as tends to happen when a bunch of hockey players get together in the same room.

“Oh, do you guys know who we’re playing next week?” Chuck asks.

“Um, I think the schedule said Bayport,” Ethan answers, pulling out his phone to check.

“Bayport? I thought they weren’t in our division,” Hope says, leaning over to look at Ethan’s phone with a frown.

“No, they recently changed the division standards, so now they’re in division two with us, which is stupid because their population size is like double ours,” Maya says, rolling her eyes.

“It’ll be good for them,” one of the other players says dryly. “They’ve got more resources, more funding, and more community support than the rest of the D2 teams combined. They’re going to mercilessly plow through everybody this season.”

“I heard they’ve got two trained coaches on salary. I’m pretty sure our coach doesn’t even get paid,” Someone else at the table says.

“Aren’t they on like an undefeated streak right now too?” Chuck adds.

“Yeah, they’ve won the state championship every year for three decades. It’s a really big deal down there, not breaking the streak,” Maya says. “I can’t even imagine what that’s like. Mystic Falls high hasn’t done well in any sport since like the 60’s. Our trophies are so old, they’re starting to decompose.”

Most of the players laugh at that, but Lizzie starts to tune out the conversation as soon as she notices that Hope isn’t paying attention to it anymore. Next to Lizzie, Josie appears to be going into full reporter mode at hint of an interesting story, asking Chuck a few questions about Bayport, so Lizzie turns her full attention to Hope. She watches Hope fall silent, the conversation easily moving on with out her. She notices Hope recedes into herself a little and pull out her phone to check something, Lizzie isn’t sure what.

Now, Hope checking her phone is not an odd behavior, obviously, but it becomes odd when Lizzie watches her do it several times in a minute, never appearing to do anything on her phone that would imply anyone texting her on the other end. Lizzie furrows her brow in worry as Hope frowns down at her phone for the eighth time in two minutes. The part that bothers Lizzie the most is that Hope’s eyes no longer have that light in them that had been so pleasantly unfamiliar earlier.

Lizzie isn’t surprised at all when the food comes and Hope barely even touches it, continuing to check her phone at frequent intervals. It also doesn’t surprise Lizzie that after only a few minutes, Hope gets up, grabs her jacket off the back of her chair, and excuses herself, saying that she needs some air. What does surprise Lizzie, or rather, infuriates her, is that no one else at the table seems to notice that something is bothering Hope, hardly even realizing that she is gone. 

Lizzie waits a moment, looking around the table to see if anyone else has bothered to notice Hope’s absence, before getting up with a frustrated huff and following Hope outside. The air is cold and crisp outside of the pizza place, a cold wind causing Lizzie to shiver a little. It doesn’t take long for Lizzie to spot Hope sitting on the ground, her back pressed against the red brick of the building. Hope doesn’t notice Lizzie, her eyes staring dejectedly at the nearly broken phone in her hand.

Lizzie stands there, just watching Hope for a second, trying to figure out how to approach the girl. She gets a little side tracked at the way the street lamp illuminates Hope’s face in an almost ethereal glow, casting light over her drawn, tired face and soft blue eyes. Only once Hope flickers her phone screen on to check her notifications does Lizzie finally understand what’s going on and walk over.

Hope doesn’t acknowledge Lizzie’s presence as she takes a seat on the ground next to her, their shoulders brushing slightly. A cold wind blows past them and Lizzie really wishes that she had thought to bring her coat with her.

“I take it your aunts haven’t texted you back yet?” Lizzie says after a long moment.

Hope sighs and leans her head back against the wall behind her. After a second, she shakes her head slightly. “It’s not like I’m mad at them for it. I get that life just gets in the way, but…”

“It’s okay to need them to be there for you, Hope, especially at a time like this. You’re not asking too much,” Lizzie says, feeling some irritation at Hope’s aunts rise in her chest.

Hope lets out a long sigh, her breath visible in the cool, late fall air. She is quiet for a long time, and Lizzie just waits for her to be ready to talk again.

“I just miss them, you know?” Hope whispers so softly that her words are almost completely swallowed up by the surrounding buzz of the pizza place and quiet roar of passing cars. After a second, Lizzie realizes she isn’t sure if Hope is talking about her aunts or her parents in that moment, but she decides that it probably isn’t important right now so she just nods in response.

Lizzie isn’t sure if Hope is going to say anything more or not, so she waits for a bit. Unconsciously, Lizzie scoots a little closer to Hope, in an attempt to buffer herself from the cold wind. Hope glances at Lizzie for the first time since she came out there, noticing her shivering against her side. A slight smile flickers across her face before she starts to take off her jacket.

“I can’t believe you came out here without a coat. Aren’t you the one always complaining about the cold?” Hope says, shaking her head fondly and passing her letterman jacket to Lizzie.

Lizzie wants to argue for a second, but the heavy warmth of Hope’s jacket is too good to pass up. She takes the coat, sinking her arms into the thick leather sleaves, warm and comforting from Hope’s body heat. She sighs a little into the jacket before glancing back at Hope, who’s looking at her a little more intensely than usual.

“Aren’t you going to get cold?” Lizzie asks, feeling some unexplained heat rise in her face from Hope’s stare.

Hope shrugs. “Not really, I run pretty hot.”

Lizzie nods, accepting this answer. They sit there for a while in silence, staring out at the mostly empty parking lot lit by a single lamp post. Despite the warmth of the jacket, Lizzie still leans a little into Hope, so that their shoulders are pressed together and their knees brush slightly.

“I know this isn’t exactly the same thing, but, you know, Josie and I lost our mom when we were younger,” Lizzie says, her voice more unsteady than she would like. She never liked to talk about her mom and it always ends up being harder than she expects.

Hope turns to Lizzie, an understanding look in her deep blue eyes, and waits for her to continue.

“I think we were like one year old when it happened, so it’s not like we really remember her at all. Josie sometimes says that she does, in like little bits and pieces, but I don’t think you can technically develop memories that young.” Lizzie pauses to take a deep breath. “I don’t really like to talk about her, because I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. I never met her. I didn’t know her. Dad never talks about her. But at the same time, sometimes it’s like I know that something’s missing. I don’t know if that makes sense.”

Lizzie feels Hope’s hand grasp hers, giving her a gentle, comforting squeeze. When she glances at Hope, she is immediately met with those blue eyes locked on her in a way that makes her feel incredibly warm despite the cold air.

“It makes sense,” Hope says with such confidence that Lizzie almost believes her.

Lizzie sighs and they sit there for a long, quiet moment. “Our pizza is probably cold by now,” Lizzie eventually says, breaking the silence between them.

Hope lets out a small laugh, a genuine smile breaking out on her face. Lizzie can’t help but be proud that she’s the reason for that smile.

“Yeah, we should probably head back in,” Hope says, getting to her feet and then offering Lizzie a hand.

Lizzie smiles and takes Hope’s offered hand, her attention once again drawn to how strong Hope’s grip is as she helps her to her feet. They start to make their way back inside the pizza place, but Lizzie halts in her step about half way there.

“Oh, Hope, do you want my number?” Lizzie asks suddenly.

Hope turns to Lizzie and raises a questioning eyebrow at her.

“You know, since we’re friends now, I figured it’d be good if you had my number, so we could talk and get together and stuff,” Lizzie says, gesturing vaguely with her hands.

“We’re friends now? Is that right?” Hope says, her tone somewhere between guarded and teasing.

Lizzie feels her face heat up slightly. “Well, I just thought, considering… you know, we don’t hate each other anymore, that friendship was the next logical step, obviously,” Lizzie explains awkwardly, desperately trying to maintain her air of self assured confidence.

Hope smiles. “Obviously,” She repeats teasingly.

Lizzie rolls her eyes and gives Hope’s shoulder a playful little push. “Do you want my number or not?”

“Yeah, I do,” Hope says, her smile growing wider as she digs her phone out of her pocket and offers it to Lizzie.

Lizzie easily types her number into Hope’s phone before naming the contact, heart emojis on either side of her name. 

“There you go,” Lizzie says, handing the phone back. “Now if you want to talk or hang out, you can just text me.” Her tone gets a little serious for a moment, clearly trying to tell Hope that she can come to Lizzie if she needs someone.

“Thanks,” Hope says, slipping her phone back in her pocket.

“Of course that’s assuming you don’t shatter your phone before you get a chance,” Lizzie teases, and Hope laughs lightly as they make their way back inside.

Once they are back inside, Lizzie gives Hope her jacket back and they rejoin the table. Things wrap up pretty quickly from there. The students split up the bill and pack up leftovers before saying their goodbyes and heading out.

It’s pretty late when Josie and Lizzie get home, but their father is still awake, in his office working. They pop their heads in to say hi and explain why they were home later than usual. He says something vague about the importance of sleep and that they should get to bed quickly, something which neither girl really takes to heart as they head off towards their room.

Josie starts some homework at her desk while Lizzie changes into her pyjamas. Just as Lizzie is moving to plug her phone in for the night, it vibrates in her hand, a notification from an unknown number appearing on the screen.

It read:  _ Hey, It’s Hope _ .

Before Lizzie even has time to open up her phone, it buzzes again, a new message from the same number.

_ I’m just texting you so you have my number, too. _

Lizzie laughs lightly to herself and rolls her eyes a little at Hope’s awkwardness. After some deliberation, Lizzie sends a text back.

_ Have a good night, Hope : ) _

Josie notices her sister staring down at her phone with a silly smile on her face and it distracts her enough from her homework that she has to ask.

“What was that?” Josie asks, being purposefully vague in case it’s something Lizzie doesn’t want to talk about.

“Hm? Oh, I gave Hope my number tonight and she just texted me,” Lizzie says casually.

Josie has to bite her lip to keep herself from pointing out that the smile Lizzie had had on her face was one of the gayest looks Josie has ever seen. Josie has always had some suspicions that her sister wasn’t straight, especially in the last week or so, but she has never said anything, knowing that it’s something Lizzie has to figure out herself. Even still, it’s sort of hard to watch and kind of hilarious at the same time.

“Oh, that’s cool. You guys seemed pretty friendly at the pizza place, so I figured it was still going well,” Josie says, trying not to imply anything with her tone, not that Lizzie would probably notice.

“Yeah…” Lizzie says, a soft smile gracing her features, clearly thinking about the girl she definitely didn’t have a crush on.

Josie turns back to her homework, chuckling to herself at her sister’s obliviousness. After a few moments of focusing back on her homework, Josie’s concentration is broken again by her phone buzzing where it sits on her desktop. Josie sighs a little at the interruption, but moves to check it anyways.

It is a text from Penelope.

_ It was a pleasure running into you tonight, Jojo. Hope you have a good night. ; ) _

Josie feels herself smile softly at the text, knowing that she probably looks a lot like Lizzie had a few moments ago. She completely forgets about her homework for a good solid five minutes as she thinks about how to respond. Should she give Penelope a nickname too, or is it too soon? Should she try and start more of a conversation? Should she be flirty?

Josie shakes her head at herself when she realizes that she’s overthinking it. She gets a hold of herself and sends a quick text back before she can think too much about it.

_ You too <3 _


	7. Why Do I Tell You Things?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Lizzie and Josie stare at the sent message in silence for a moment.
> 
> “I like your arms?” Lizzie says incredulously. “What even is that, Josie?”
> 
> “I don’t know! I’m gay, I don’t have to make sense,” Josie responds anxiously, her eyes locked on the three little dots that appear on Penelope’s side of the conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy Folks!  
> This one is going to be a bit shorter for pacing reasons. It’s sort of like a fun little in between chapter that I hope is as much fun to read as it was to write. Also, writing text conversations is hard, bro.  
> Enjoy!

“This is the second time in three days, you’ve agreed to hang out with us, Hope. You must like us or something,” Ethan says when Hope gets in the car, his teasing tone betraying some genuine surprise.

It is Saturday and Maya had texted Hope the previous night asking if she wanted to hang out over the weekend. Hope honestly couldn’t think of a good reason not to, considering she only had a little homework to do and didn’t want to hang around her empty house all weekend. So she agreed, much to their surprise, and they decided to go grab some lunch and hang out in Mystic Falls for the day.

“We’ve been on the same team for three years, you guys would have to be pretty awful for me not to like you at this point,” Hope teases with a smirk.

Ethan makes an overexaggerated gasp in mock offense while Maya laughs in the passenger seat.

“You sure seem to be in a good mood today, Hope. What’s the occasion?” Maya asks, turning around in her seat.

Hope shrugs feeling a little self conscious. “I don’t know. It’s probably just that my aunt Rebekah is coming back from her most recent trip in a few days. I feel like I haven’t seen her in years.”

“Right, I’m sure it has nothing to do with your newest fan that we met on Thursday,” Ethan says sarcastically.

Hope furrows her brow in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“You know, that blonde cheerleader. What was her name?” Ethan says, gesturing vaguely with one hand.

“Lizzie,” Maya offers.

“Right, that’s the one,” Ethan says. “Are you guys friends or something? I’ve never heard you say anything about her before.”

“Oh, I actually was hoping to talk to you guys about that, sort of,” Hope says awkwardly, trying to ignore the way her stomach flips from her anxiety. “I’m not super good with this sort of thing, so I figured you guys could give me some advice.”

“Yeah, of course, Hope. What’s up?” Maya says encouragingly. 

“It’s just, I don’t know, I think she’s kind of cute, I guess,” Hope stammers nervously, tilting her head down to the floor so that hopefully neither of her friends can see the blush on her face.

“Wait, seriously? Oh my God, does Hope Mikaelson actually have a crush on somebody?” Maya exclaims excitedly.

“I never thought I’d see the day,” Ethan joins in, wiping a fake tear from his cheek. “They grow up so fast.”

Hope snorts. “Yeah, yeah, shut up, guys,” Hope says, equal parts amused and embarrassed. “I haven’t even gotten to the part where I even ask for advice so just calm down.”

Ethan mimes zipping up his lips and Maya turns to face Hope expectantly.

In another wave of self-consciousness, Hope’s face falls to the floor again as she grits out her next words. “I guess, it’s just, how can you be sure someone likes you back? Because I don’t want to, like, ruin a new friendship if I don’t have a shot, you know?”

There is a moment of silence where Ethan and Maya share a look, both of them having noticed Lizzie’s obvious interest in Hope and her even more obvious staring.

“She likes you,” The siblings say in unison, deciding to get right to the point.

“What? How can you be sure?”

“Well, she only started coming to hockey games when she found out you were on the team,” Maya says, Ethan nodding along next to her.

Hope shakes her head. “That’s because cheer performs at them now.”

“But she stays for the whole game,” Ethan interjects.

“Yeah, but--”

“And she stares at you the entire time,” Maya adds quickly, cutting Hope off.

Hope opens her mouth to argue, her brow furrowed, but before she can try to say anything again, Ethan interrupts her.

“How about this, Hope? You think she’s not coming to the games for you, just for cheer, right?”

“Yeah,” Hope says hesitantly, unsure where this is going.

“Well, then, let’s just see if she comes to the next game. It’s an away game, so no cheer performance and it’s like an hour drive. If she shows up, she definitely likes you, if she doesn’t show, then we can argue some more. How about that?”

Hope frowns and considers the idea. It does seem like pretty good logic and she’s not likely to embarrass herself in the process. “Okay, fine,” She concedes. 

After a moment, Ethan laughs a little. “God, Hope, you’re such a stereotype. Star athlete dates popular cheerleader, it’s like straight out of a cheesy teen movie.”

“Oh, god, no, stop,” Hope groans emphatically, even as she smiles.

Lizzie gets off of work early Sunday evening, and when she comes home, she finds Josie curled up on the sofa, smiling down at the phone cradled in her hands. Lizzie throws her jacket over the back of a chair and plops down next to her sister.

“Whatcha doin’?” Lizzie asks, leaning against Josie in an attempt to see her phone screen.

Josie, predictably, moves the phone so Lizzie can’t see. “Texting,” She says absently, her attention never leaving the screen.

Lizzie thinks for a moment before a lightbulb goes off in her head. “Ooo, is it that girl you met at the last hockey game?” Lizzie asks, excitedly.

Josie rolls her eyes and pushes Lizzie away as her sister makes another attempt to see her phone, but the embarrassed smile on her face does more than confirm Lizzie’s suspicions.

“Oh my god, it is! Get it, Josie!” Lizzie hypes, causing both of them to laugh. “Shoot, what did you say her name was again?”

“Penelope,” Josie answers, embarrassingly unable to keep the smile off her face as she says it.

“You look positively smitten,” Lizzie teases. “I guess it’s going pretty well, then?”

“You could say that. We’ve mostly just been trading speech and debate stories. Also she keeps sending me debate memes,” Josie says with a laugh.

“Ooo, debate memes, that’s like second base for nerds,” Lizzie teases.

“Hey, Penelope is not a nerd.”

“Does that mean you’re admitting that you are?”

Josie rolls her eyes with a huff and lovingly attempts to shove Lizzie off of the sofa.

“Hey, I’m just joking,” Lizzie says from the floor, holding her hands up in surrender. “I’m happy you found another nerd to share nerd jokes with.”

Josie groans. “That’s it, I’m leaving,” She says getting to her feet.

“No, wait, I’ll be nice, I’ll be nice,” Lizzie says before Josie can get very far.

Josie sighs and sends Lizzie a glare before sitting back down. “Why do I tell you things?”

“Because you love me and I’m amazing,” Lizzie responds without missing a beat. “So, what does this Penelope look like? I've got to make sure she’s at least in your league.”

“Oh, please, she is so out of my league. I don’t think trying to describe her looks would do them any justice.”

Lizzie snorts at that. “God, you are such a pan loser, Josie. Just ask her to send a selfie if you’re so worried you won’t do her beauty justice.”

Josie frowns a little at that. “I don’t know, wouldn’t that be weird? I don’t want to be too forward.”

“It’s not weird, Jo. That’s how flirting works over text.”

“Okay fine, give me a second,” Josie says, typing out the message. She hesitates slightly before hitting the send button. Within seconds a new message appears on the screen.

_ Can’t get enough of me, huh? Give me a sec. _

A photo follows a few moments after. The angle of the photo is tilted, placing Penelope just out of the center of the frame. She appears to be sitting at a desk in what Josie assumes is her bedroom. Her hair is ruffled in a bed head that somehow makes her even hotter and she is wearing a tight tank top which shows off her tan, surprisingly toned arms, among other things. She also is holding up a peace sign with an expression that is somewhere between a smirk and a smoulder. Josie is definitely saving that photo.

“Damn, Jo, you’ve got good taste,” Lizzie says, leaning over her sister’s shoulder to get a better look at the picture. 

Josie jolts out of her questionable thoughts, feeling her face heat up. “Yep, there you go, that’s her,” Josie says, quickly exiting out of the photo.

“Now you’ve got to send her one,” Lizzie says, nudging Josie with her elbow.

“What? No! How am I supposed to compete with that?” 

“Well, I mean, you definitely can’t, but she already likes you, so just go for it,” Lizzie encourages.

Josie looks skeptical, but after another elbow from her sister, she opens up her camera. She holds up the phone, positioning it so the screen shows her with her oversized, sunday evening sweatshirt and unwashed hair tied up in a bun. She gives the camera a confident smile, but after seeing how it looks, she abandons trying to look confident all together. She ends up giving a shy, embarrassed smile as she tries to sink deeper into her sweatshirt.

Lizzie helps Josie choose the best picture out of about twenty that look almost the same. Lizzie insists there is a significant difference between shots, but Josie doesn’t see it. Then Josie closes her eyes and quickly sends the photo before she can second guess herself. She only opens her eyes when she feels her phone vibrate with a new message.

_ Damn, you’re looking adorable, Jojo! Wish I could be staring at you instead of my math hw ; ) _

“Oh, she’s pretty smooth,” Lizzie says, impressed at the girl’s confidence.

“Yeah, she is,” Josie says fondly. “But sometimes it makes it hard to talk to her, because, like, what am I supposed to say to that?”

“Just don’t overthink it, Jo. You got this,” Lizzie says, giving her sister a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“Okay,” Josie says uncertainly as she begins to type. Once she’s finished, Josie sends the message immediately, not giving herself a chance to overthink it, or for Lizzie to read it.

_ Thanks! You look good too. I like your arms. _

Both Lizzie and Josie stare at the sent message in silence for a moment.

“I like your arms?” Lizzie says incredulously. “What even is that, Josie?”

“I don’t know! I’m gay, I don’t have to make sense,” Josie responds anxiously, her eyes locked on the three little dots that appear on Penelope’s side of the conversation.

They both hold their breath as they wait for Penelope’s message to come through. It probably only takes a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity.

_ Really? Well, I guess it’s time to cut the sleeves off all my shirts then ; ) _

Lizzie and Josie both burst out laughing when Penelope’s message finally comes through.

“Oh God, Jo, and here I thought you were actually into someone cool, but I guess even the hottest of girls become absolute dorks around you,” Lizzie jokes as she tries to catch her breath. “Also, does she use the winking emoji in every text?”

“Mmhm,” Josie hums in response, not really listening to Lizzie as she types out a reply to Penelope.

_ That sounds like a bad idea, but I’m not going to stop you 👀  _

Lizzie leans over to read the message Josie sent, and groans when she realizes what her sister has said. “You’re both terrible!”

Josie laughs and doesn’t even try to deny it. Although the statement does sound a little hypocritical to Josie given Lizzie’s current situation with a particular hockey player.

“Speaking of terrible, has Hope texted you since the other night?” Josie asks, partially out of curiosity and partially to get Lizzie to stop reading her texts.

Lizzie sighs melodramatically. “No, I haven’t heard from her, which is weird considering it’s not like she has a life,” Lizzie says, seemingly not noticing the casual insult in her statement.

“Well, why don’t you just text her first?” Josie offers, slightly distracted by a meme Penelope has sent her about speech and debate kids being good at oral (performance).

“I don’t want to seem clingy, Jo. We just started being friends,” Lizzie scoffs, apparently unaware of the romantic context of her words.

Josie has to stop herself from rolling her eyes at Lizzie’s obliviousness. “You won’t seem clingy, Liz. It’s normal to text a friend to check in or just because you’re bored on a Sunday evening. Plus, you clearly want to text her, so just do it already,” Josie says, nudging Lizzie with her shoulder.

Lizzie gives a ridiculous sigh and concedes to Josie’s point, pulling her phone out of her pocket. She stares at the screen for a moment, before sighing again and saying, “But, like what do I say?”

Josie clenches her jaw a little to stop some of her thoughts from becoming words before she answers, “How about ‘Hey Hope’?”

Lizzie doesn’t seem to like this option, but types it into the text bar and sends it anyways. It only takes a few moments for a reply to come through. Apparently everyone is just sitting on their phones this sunday evening.

_ Hey Lizzie, what’s up? _

_ Bored. What are you up to? _ Lizzie texts back, deciding to commit to Josie’s advice and just go for it.

_ I’m doing some cleaning right now. My aunt is coming back some time this week and I want her to think that I actually keep things clean when she’s gone. _

_ Ha, nice. Usually, I just badger Josie into cleaning for me and then I pay her back in pastries. _

_ That sounds like a great deal. Unfortunately, my brother is almost a decade older than me, lives in hundreds of miles away, and is not so easily bought. _

Lizzie is a little taken aback by the last text. She had no idea that Hope had a brother. To be fair, Lizzie doesn’t actually know much about Hope, but she figured a brother would’ve come up sometime in their entire shared school careers. Lizzie considers mentioning how odd this new fact is, but doesn’t want to be weird about it or make Hope feel self conscious. However, before she can come to a decision, her thought process is interrupted by another text from Hope.

_ Oh, Lizzie, I actually want to ask you something while I’ve got you. _

_ Yeah, shoot _ , Lizzie sends back quickly.

_ I was wondering if you were planning on coming to the next hockey game? _

_ Yeah, of course, Hope. It’s the first playoff game, right? How could I miss it? _

_ Oh, cool. I just thought because it’s an away game, so you don’t have to perform that you wouldn’t want to make the drive. _

_ And miss watching you kick some snobby Bayport ass? Please. Plus, it’s not like I have anything better to do. _

_ Well, it’ll be cool to have you there :) _

_ OMG! Hope, did you just use a manual emoji?  _

_ :( don’t be mean _

_ I’m not making fun, you’re just adorable!!! _

Lizzie is questioning whether three exclamation points is too many when she hears her father’s voice as he enters the living room.

“Hey, girls. What are you up to?” Dr. Saltzman says, sounding very much like a dad who has trouble connecting with his teenage daughters.

“Texting,” Both Lizzie and Josie say in unison, not looking up from their phones.

Dr. Saltzman seems a little taken aback by this response. “Okay…” He says uncertainly. “Well, have fun, I guess.”

When neither of his daughters reply, Dr. Saltzman shrugs and walks back into the kitchen to get the glass of water he had come for.


	8. Do You Want to Talk About it?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What in the world is going on here?” Mr. McGarth, a science teacher, says, moving to put distance between Lizzie and the injured boy.  
> “She fucking hit me!” The boy screams in outrage.  
> Lizzie attempts to argue back, but the teacher cuts her off.  
> “Lizzie, Principal’s office, now,” He says sternly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy Folks!  
> Quick CONTENT WARNING for mentions of homophobia and use of a homophobic slur. It's very brief and the guy gets punched in the face right after, but I wanted to make sure you guys are aware.  
> Anyways, Lizzie and Hope are the type of couple to go on a date, but the date is just punching homophobes, and I love them for it. Also the next chapter should be the Bayport hockey game, so that'll be fun!  
> Enjoy!

Monday morning is a surprisingly energizing one for Lizzie this week. She spent a good portion of her Sunday evening having a semi-awkward text conversation with Hope, and Lizzie is excited to see her at school, which is definitely new, but she’s not questioning it. Any reason to get out of bed is a good one. Not to mention she got a bunch of homework done over the weekend to make sure she had time to go to the hockey team’s first playoff game that Tuesday. The first game where she wouldn’t have to wear that stupid cheerleading uniform being a day away just adds another layer of excitement to the morning.

“Someone certainly woke up on the right side of the bed this morning,” Josie says as she sits down next to Lizzie with her breakfast. Her comment is a little sarcastic probably due to the enormous bags under her eyes that suggest that she didn’t get too much sleep last night.

“You’re just grouchy because you stayed up too late flirting with Penelope,” Lizzie teases with an infuriatingly bright smile.

Josie has to resist the urge to point out that if Hope hadn’t gone to bed early, Lizzie would be in the same position as her right now. Instead, she just grumbles incoherently into her next bite of cereal.

As the twins are finishing their morning routine, Josie can’t help but notice that Lizzie spends at least an extra ten minutes smoothing down her outfit and tiding up her hair in the bathroom mirror. Josie rolls her eyes and takes great pleasure in yelling for her sister to hurry up from the bottom of the stairs, just like Lizzie does to her every other morning. Lizzie gives Josie a dirty look when she finally comes down the stairs, but Josie just laughs and pointedly compliments Lizzie’s eyeliner, which is clearly more carefully crafted than it is most mornings. Lizzie doesn’t seem to notice what Josie is implying as they head out to the car.

They arrive at school with about ten minutes to spare before first hour starts. Josie goes off to find MG as Lizzie heads off to her locker to grab a textbook she’ll need for third hour. As Lizzie is opening up her locker, she can vaguely hear the conversation of a few underclassmen next to her. She isn’t really listening, not caring what a couple of sophomores have to say in their free time, until she hears Hope’s name.

“Did you hear about Hope Mikaelson? Apparently she’s like the star hockey player for the district team,” One of the students says with a slight twinge of derision that has Lizzie furrowing her brow and cocking her head to hear better.

“Yeah, it took me by total surprise,” One of the other students replies, a slight sneer in his voice. “Who would’ve guessed Mikaelson would be such a dyke?”

The last word cuts through Lizzie like hot poker and she feels complete unadulterated rage push her forward, sending her barrelling toward the person who has uttered it. The world practically goes white around Lizzie as she zeroes in on the underclassman’s sneering face and pulls her fist back. The boy doesn’t even get a chance to react before Lizzie’s fist collides with his nose, producing a sickening crunch.

The sophomore immediately recoils back against the lockers, holding his nose as his friends scramble away to avoid becoming another victim of Lizzie’s wrath.

“What the fuck!” The boy screams through the hand holding his nose, his eyes wild and angry.

“ _ Watch your fucking mouth _ ,” Lizzie growls, low and harsh. She relishes a little in seeing the boy recoil at her words, but the little triumph she has is ripped away by the voice of a teacher behind her.

“What in the world is going on here?” Mr. McGarth, a science teacher, says, moving to put distance between Lizzie and the injured boy.

“She fucking hit me!” The boy screams in outrage.

Lizzie attempts to argue back, but the teacher cuts her off.

“Lizzie, Principal’s office, now,” He says sternly.

Lizzie grumbles something under her breath, but spins on her heels and stomps off toward the admin offices. Lizzie bitterly informs the secretary of why she’s there, and she directs her to a waiting area. It’s a small, familiar room off to the side of the offices with three uncomfortable chairs and nothing else. God, Lizzie hates that room.

Lizzie grits her teeth as she wait for the principal to see her. She already knows what he’s going to say.  _ It’s been so long since you’ve gotten in trouble, what happened? You’ve been doing so well, Lizzie. I thought we had your condition under control? _

Lizzie growls at her own internalized guilt and shame. It has been almost two years since Lizzie was sent to the principal’s office for behavior like this. It has gotten to the point where most people at the school had forgotten just how much time Lizzie used to spend in this tiny, awful waiting room. She thought she had control now, but it seems like old sore spots never go away. 

Hearing things like what that boy had said always got underneath Lizzie’s skin. In eighth grade, Josie came out as pansexual, and for every one person being nice and supportive, there were two others saying awful things behind her back. Lizzie hated hearing those things about her sister, hated the way people talked about her when they thought she couldn’t hear them, hated the way that people seemed to see Josie completely differently overnight when really she was still the same person she always was.

Eighth grade was a tough year for Josie because of all that, but it was also a tough year for Lizzie. She could hardly go three days without getting into a fight with some upperclassman twice her size for saying something rude about her sister. And people always blamed Lizzie’s misbehavior on her diagnosis. It was like they couldn’t see the way people harassed Josie, and because of Lizzie’s history of episodes like this, no one ever seemed to believe that she actually had a good reason. Still, she didn’t regret a single punch she threw for Josie’s honor, and she certainly doesn’t regret the one she just threw for Hope’s.

“Lizzie?” The principal’s voice cuts sharply through Lizzie’s thoughts. “You can come on in now. Thanks for waiting.”

Lizzie nods tightly and follows the principal into his office. She takes a seat in front of his desk right as he slides back into his own chair. She knows this dance.

“So, what happened, Lizzie?”

“Some sophomore was talking shit about a friend of mine,” Lizzie mutters, knowing how inconsequential it sounds after the fact.

“Lizzie…” The principal says. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you here. I thought we were over this.”

Lizzie hates how patronizing he sounds. She wants to argue. She wants to scream. But really she needs to get through this as quickly and easily as possible, even if her pride comes out bruised on the other side. Fighting was never worth it.

“Yeah, well, recovery isn’t a straight line,” Lizzie says, regurgitating a line from her therapist.

“Alright, I understand,” The principal says, and Lizzie knows that he doesn’t really. “Because this is the first time in a while, I suppose I can let you off a little easier. A major referral, 45 minutes in detention after school sometime this week and I’ll need to talk to your father. And, please, Lizzie, if you need to talk to anyone, please reach out. You know we’re always here to help.”

Lizzie nods, not trusting herself to say anything more. She dreads the disappointed look that will be in her father’s face when he inevitably lectures her tonight. Plus, she’ll have to tell her coach that she can’t come to cheer practice one of the days this week because she has detention. God, is it too late to just curl up into a ball and die?

“Okay, you’re free to go back to class, but take all the time you need,” The principal says, gesturing toward the door.

Lizzie guesses she appreciates being given extra time to collect herself, but she could’ve just snuck off into the bathroom anyways. She leaves the admin office as quickly as possible, but only makes it a few paces down the hall before she needs to stop. Her hands clench into fists, blunt nails digging into her palm, as her chest tightens painfully. She closes her eyes and focuses on her breathing, in through her nose and slowly out through her mouth. She’s done it a million and one times since she learned it in therapy. She just hopes that no one walks by and sees her like this.

“Lizzie?” A familiar voice speaks from a few feet away.

Lizzie tenses at the voice, her nails digging harder into her flesh, before she finally opens her eyes. “Hi, Hope,” Lizzie says, incredibly tightly, her teeth sinking into the inside of her bottom lip.

Hope’s brow furrows in concern and she takes a tentative step forward. “Are you okay? You’re, um…” Hope trails off, finishing her thought by nodding her head toward Lizzie’s balled up hands. Then she raises an eyebrow with a knowing and sympathetic look.

“Oh, yeah,” Lizzie says, quickly prying her nails out of her own skin. “Told you I did it too,” Lizzie adds with a bit dry of humor.

Hope cracks a smile. “I never doubted you.” 

Hope looks at Lizzie for a long moment before slowly moving to lean against the wall next to her, clearly trying to look casual, but ending up with incredibly awkward and uncomfortable. Her hand brushes Lizzie’s ever so slightly and for a moment it’s all Lizzie can focus on.

“So? Do you want to talk about it?” Hope asks, somehow managing to sound more awkward than she already looks. If Lizzie wasn’t so stressed out, she probably would have found it adorable.

Lizzie’s first instinct is to say no and it doesn’t exactly surprise her. If someone had told her a few weeks ago that she would confide in Hope Mikaelson some day, she probably would’ve laughed in their face. But, now, as Lizzie turns to see nothing but kindness and earnestly in Hope’s eyes, she can’t imagine not wanting to spill her guts. Still, it’s not the easiest thing to talk about. 

Lizzie shrugs, her gaze falling from Hope’s. “It’s stupid,” She says, fidgeting with her hands to stop herself from bitting the tiny nubs of what remains her fingernails. She doesn’t exactly remember when she chewed them so short, but it’s a regular enough occurrence that it doesn’t surprise her.

There is a beat of silence where Lizzie can practically feel Hope looking at her. Then Lizzie feels something warm and rough encircle her wrist, consequently stopping her from fidgeting. When she looks down she sees Hope’s hand gently holding hers, ever so slightly tugging Lizzie’s wrist so that she will face her.

“It’s not stupid,” Hope says with such certainty that Lizzie really wants to believe her.

Lizzie brushes off Hope’s sincerity with a chuckle. “I got a major referral for clocking some underclassman,” Lizzie mutters quickly, tensing in anticipation of Hope’s reaction.

A sharp, surprised laugh escapes from Hope, her eyes going a little wide and her soft smile twitching into a grin. “Oh my god, are you serious?” Hope says clearly amused at the idea.

“What’s so funny, Mikaelson?” Lizzie says, frowning.

Hope freezes, seeing that Lizzie isn’t nearly as amused as she is. “Sorry, I just never imagined that you would punch somebody. You always seemed to prefer attacking people with your words, which, honestly, you’re really good at. It just surprised me, I guess.”

Lizzie relaxes now that she is reassured that Hope isn’t laughing at her. She lets out a laugh of her own and says, “You clearly haven’t read my file.”

Hope raises her eyebrow at that and Lizzie flinches at her inadvertent admission, but after a moment, Lizze realizes that Hope doesn’t look put off or judgemental at all. If anything, Hope looks respectfully curious and something else Lizzie can’t quite place.

“So, yeah,” Lizzie starts quickly, not wanting Hope to ask her any follow up questions about her previous statement, “I have a little bit of a history of referrals, but it’s been like two years since my last one, so it just feels really shitty to be back here, especially because the principal still treats me like the kid I was in eight grade.

Hope scowls at the thought of someone patronizing Lizzie like that. The girl is so good at projecting confidence, it’s hard to imagine anyone treating her like a child. 

“I can only imagine,” Hope responds sympathetically.

“Yeah, and the worst part is they don’t even care why I punched him. Like, do they really think I just did it for no fucking reason? Or maybe they just think I’m that crazy?” Lizzie says bitterly.

Hope feels anger flare in her chest and something that resembles protectiveness. She has to take a second to calm herself before she can respond. “Can I ask why you punched him?” Hope asks tentatively, not sure if Lizzie wants to talk about it.

Lizzie freezes, remembering that she had been defending Hope. Lizzie always did her best to protect Josie from what people said about her, so she defaults to the same strategy here. 

“Oh, uh, he used a homophobic slur,” Lizzie says a little dismissively.

Hope’s scowl immediately deepens. “Seriously? What kind of asshole still thinks that they can get away with that shit?” Hope scoffs. “It it makes you feel any better, Lizzie, I would’ve done the same thing.”

“Hope Mikaelson being willing to punch someone? Can’t say I’m surprised,” Lizzie teases, the tightness in her chest loosening thanks to Hope’s supportiveness.

Hope snorts. “I feel like I shouldn’t have to clarify that I don’t generally attack people when I’m not playing hockey,” Hope says with a smile and a shake of her head.

“I feel like the fact that you used the word generally explains why people might think that,” Lizzie points out with a smirk.

They both share a laugh, before Lizzie furrows her brow at Hope.

“Hey, Hope, aren’t you supposed to be in class or something?”

“I have student service this hour. I’m running passes,” Hope says, holding up a few slips of paper in her hand that somehow Lizzie hadn’t noticed.

“Oh, don’t you need to, like, actually do that?” Lizzie asks, self consciously taking a step back from Hope.

Hope shrugs, not seeming too worried about it. “I’ve only got like one more pass left to drop off, the rest of these aren’t here today,” Hope says, lifting up the slips to demonstrate the two sections in her hand separated by one of her fingers.

“Oh, okay,” Lizzie says, feeling reluctant to end her interaction with Hope.

There is a brief moment of silence before Hope gets a purposeful smile on her face. “Actually, Lizzie, are you in any hurry to get back to class?”

Lizzie snorts. “God, no.”

“Wanna come with me to drop off the last pass?” 

Lizzie can’t help but match Hope’s smile. “Absolutely,” she says brightly as they start to make their way down the hall.


	9. “What do you think they’re going to do?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, Mikaelson, just wanted to say, I’m sorry for your loss. Seems like being an orphan really does take a toll on your hockey skills, huh?” The girl sneers cruelly.
> 
> Something cold and sharp runs through Hope’s veins in an instant and she almost fucking loses it. She probably would’ve jumped this girl right there if it hadn’t been for the sound of whistle ringing out to ground her. Everything starts moving again and Hope suddenly feels like she can breathe, but the tightness in her chest doesn’t go away and her murderous thoughts certainly don’t either. Her hands shake as she continues to play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy Folks!  
> Despite how long I've been gone, I have fulfilled my promise. Behold, a hockey game!   
> On one hand, I feel bad because this is probably about the height of angst in this story, and angst makes me sad. Hope deserves better. On the other hand, I revel in the dramatic tension and payoff, lmao  
> Next chap will be more Penelope and Josie focused. Josie has some choice words.  
> Also, if you're interested in more info about why I've been gone for so long, I explained a little in the top notes of my other fic Legacies 2.0. I just didn't want to have to repeat myself for ever story (I have too many WIP), so if you wanna know, hop over there.   
> Anyways, Enjoy!

The entire school is buzzing with excitement the day of the first playoff game. There is actually a surprising number of people from Salvatore planning on going to the away game, one of those, obviously, being Lizzie. She talked about how she thought the game would go practically all throughout the day to anyone who would listen. The only person who managed to match her energy was Chuck, who seemed to be literally vibrating with excitement by the end of the day.

Lizzie, unfortunately, didn’t get to see much of Hope during the day, only seeing her in history class, which they obviously couldn’t talk much during. That didn’t stop Lizzie from hyping Hope up though. She texted Hope about twice every hour with encouragement and anticipation for the game. Hope didn’t really respond much to the texts, incapable of matching Lizzie’s energy, but Lizzie did see Hope in the hall when she received one and Lizzie couldn’t have been prouder of the smile on Hope’s face.

Lizzie speed ran her way through cheer practice, being the first one out of the locker rooms once they were done. She waited impatiently outside of Josie’s newspaper meeting for about a minute before going in and dragging her sister out. The meeting was basically done anyways. Then, Josie and Lizzie drive home and get cleaned up before hopping in their car and heading off to the game, picking up MG on the way.

When they arrived at the game, they were taken aback by the size of the rink. It was almost twice the size of the one in mystic falls. Hockey must really be a big deal in Bayport. As they make their way inside, they find that they have arrived just at the right time. There aren’t too many people there yet, but most of the players are already on the ice.

“You guys find seats, I’m going to say hi to Hope,” Lizzie says, starting around toward the other side of the rink.

Josie and MG easily find some seats close to the front and settle in. They watch from across the rink as Lizzie talks with Hope until the coach yells at her for distracting the players. Lizzie comes back over to them after being scolded, but she looks nowhere near ready to sit still yet.

“Hey, Josie, come with me, I want to take a look at the other team,” Lizzie says taking Josie’s arm and dragging her to the edge of the rink. MG gives Josie an apologetic look as she is pulled away.

“I don’t know why you want to look at them. It’s not like you’d know any of them,” Josie huffs when they reach the plexiglass wall around the ice.

“It’s good to size up the competition,” Lizzie says simply, watching the other team warm up with an intense expression.

“You do know, you’re not playing right?” Josie asks, a little exasperated with her sister at this point in the day.

Lizzie gives her an unpleasant a look. “No, duh, Josie.”

Josie sighs as they both go back to watching the other team. They appear to be doing a small scrimmage drill where the various offensive players go up in pairs against a set of defensive players and try to score.

Josie watches as the next set of players move forward. The offensive player on the other side from where they stand attempts to pass the puck, but it gets intercepted by the defender. The other offensive player, however, performs a perfect play, hip checking the defender away from the puck to recover it and immediately taking a shot, one that slips right in between the goaltender’s pads before they manage to fall on it.

The skilled offensive player takes a moment to glance around, clearly basking in the impressive maneuver they just completed. For just a moment, they turn to face Josie and Lizzie and Josie meets their eyes.

“Penelope?” Josie shouts suddenly, her brain struggling to process to implications of what she’s seeing.

The hockey player almost looks guilty for a second, her eyes flicking away for a second, but it quickly disappears behind an irreverent smirk as she skates toward the barrier.

“Well, look who it is,” Penelope says, taking off her helmet as her eyes meet Josie’s confidently.

“You play for Bayport?” Josie asks, her voice slowly become less shocked and more upset.

Penelope looks off to the side casually, as if having to think about it. “Yeah, I guess I do, huh?”

This response makes Josie’s hands clench. “So then, you were at our game last week for what? To size up the competition, to scout or something?”

Penelope has the audacity to look a little taken aback by this. “No, I was really visiting with my cousin, but you know what they say, two birds, one stone.”

“Oh my god! I don’t believe this. I don’t believe you. You fucking lied to me!” Josie says, the hurt clear in her voice.

Penelope’s expression shifts to something more serious. “Now, wait, I didn’t lie to you, Jojo.”

Josie is about to spit something back but is cut off by the whistle sounding. Penelope looks like she doesn’t want to leave, but then her expression goes blank and she skates away without another word.

Josie hates how fast her heart is beating in that moment. She hates how hurt she feels over someone she’s known for less than a week. She hates how easily she believed Penelope in the first place. And, most of all, she hates how she can’t seem to stop thinking about how good Penelope looks in her hockey gear.

After taking a few deep breaths to calm down, Josie looks around for her sister. It’s not like her to not say anything for this long. Josie turns 360 degrees and doesn’t spot her. When did she walk away? It takes several more seconds for Josie to spot Lizzie on the other side of the rink, talking to the mystic falls coach. Jesus Christ, Lizzie really does care about this game, doesn’t she?

Once Lizzie realized what was happening between Josie and the Bayport hockey player, she immediately booked it to the other side of the rink. They need to know if they had been scouted, especially if it had been last week’s game, the one where the best player got kicked off the rink less than halfway through the game.

Lizzie is panting when she rounds the corner to where the Mystic Wolves team is. The starting players are already on the ice, leaving just the subs and the coach on the bench.

“Hey, coach-whatever-the-fuck-your-name-is,” Lizzie calls to the grumpy balding man.

The coach turns to her with a scowl, and once it becomes clear that Lizzie isn’t going to leave soon, he shuffles over to talk to her.

“Yeah, what? I’ve got a game to coach, so make it quick.”

“My sister recognized one of the Bayport players as someone who was at last week’s game, probably there scouting,” Lizzie explains.

The coach’s scowl deepens, but this time it’s not directed at Lizzie. “Which one?”

“That one, the one that’s squared up with Hope,” Lizzie says, pointing.

The coach frowns in thought for a moment, watching the first drop of the puck. “I’ll keep an eye on it,” He says eventually, turning his attention away from Lizzie.

Lizzie, however, doesn’t plan on leaving anytime soon. Josie had been talking about Bayport over the weekend because she was looking into the whole changing divisions thing, and Lizzie remembers her saying something about the Bayport team being known for their ruthless, underhanded tactics. _Anything to win._

“What do you think they’re going to do?” A voice says, startling Lizzie out of her thoughts. Lizzie looks around for a second, finally locating Chuck as the source of the sound. She hadn’t even realized that he was listening.

“I don’t know, but I can’t imagine it will be good,” Lizzie says gravely.

When Hope lines up, she receives a little smirk from the player opposite of her. Hope scowls a little but keeps her head down and keeps her thoughts focused on the game that’s about to start.

“It’s Hope Mikaelson, right?” The opposing player says, her voice syrupy sweet and sinister.

Hope can feel the girl getting on her nerves already, which is not a good sign, but then the puck is dropped, and she doesn’t have any more time to think about it.

The game is fast paced and tense, a constant push and pull for the advantage. Hope relishes the burn in her muscles and the ache in her bones every time she slams into someone. There isn’t anything in Hope’s head but the ice and the puck and the players, no worries, no doubts, no anxiety, no grief. Just her and a lot of things to hit.

That is until they line up for a penalty shot and Hope is once again faced with her opposing forward and that stupid little smirk.

“Hey, Mikaelson, just wanted to say, I’m sorry for your loss. Seems like being an orphan really does take a toll on your hockey skills, huh?” The girl sneers cruelly.

Something cold and sharp runs through Hope’s veins in an instant and she almost fucking loses it. She probably would’ve jumped this girl right there if it hadn’t been for the sound of whistle ringing out to ground her. Everything starts moving again and Hope suddenly feels like she can breathe, but the tightness in her chest doesn’t go away and her murderous thoughts certainly don’t either. Her hands shake as she continues to play.

Lizzie watches Hope intensely from where she stands right next to the bench area. She has no idea what Penelope is saying to Hope, but it doesn’t take long before Lizzie starts to see it affecting her. She feels a pit of dread in her stomach as she elbows Chuck next to her.

“Call your coach over,” Lizzie says, her eyes never leaving the game.

Chuck nods and moves to tap the coach on the shoulder. The coach, unsurprisingly, scowls, but does come over to hear what Lizzie has to say.

“What?” The coach says, clearly irritated to have some random teenager bugging him during a game.

“You need to pull Hope,” Lizzie say without a hint of hesitance.

The coach gives her a skeptical look but doesn’t question it. He moves back over to the edge of the ice and when the current play ends, he calls for Hope to sub out.

Hope looks more angry than confused as she skates over to the bench. “What the fuck, coach?” She snaps, vaulting violently over the side of the barrier.

“That girl is getting in your head, Mikaelson. Take five and I’ll consider putting you back in,” The coach says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Hope growls something under her breath, throwing her helmet on the ground as she flops down onto the bench. Hope doesn’t even look up to see Lizzie until Lizzie calls to her.

“Hope, are you okay?” Lizzie asks.

Hope’s head jerks up in surprise, the anger in her eyes softening when she sees Lizzie. “Lizzie? What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay. That girl you were up against was at the game last Thursday. Josie recognized her,” Lizzie explains, a concerned expression on her face.

Hope’s brow furrows as she takes in the information. “Fuck!” Hope growls after a moment, her hand slamming down on the barrier between her and the ice. “Of course she’s trying to get under my skin, and I’m just fucking letting her.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault those guys are assholes,” Lizzie says firmly.

“No, but it is my fault I can’t fucking control myself,” Hope growls, her hands clenching too tightly around the edge of the barrier in front of her.

Lizzie feels her own anger flare to life. “The hell it is! You are not responsible for letting everything roll off your back and pretending that nothing bothers you. You’re a human being and it’s not your fucking fault if you want to punch a shithead. Some people deserve to get fucking punched!”

Hope watches Lizzie intently for a moment, a swirl of emotions going through her, none of which she had the time to deal with right now. Eventually she nods and says, “You’re right.”

“Of course, I’m right, now go tell your coach to put you back in, but have you switch sides with the other forward.”

Hope nods and gets to her feet, wondering why she hadn’t thought of that.

Hope gets back on the ice after that. It takes a bit of adjusting for the offensive arrangement to get comfortable with the configuration being flipped, but they handle it well. However, the Wolves still struggle to regain as sense of offensive pressure as the Bayport team bares down on them.

Lizzie watches the game even more intently than before, but this time, her eyes aren’t just on Hope. She keeps an eyes on Penelope, her hands clenching any time she would get too close to Hope. Luckily, Hope seemed to figure out that she probably shouldn’t get within speaking distance of the girl if she didn’t have too.

A couple of times, when they had to line up for a penalty shot or for a reset in the center, Penelope would try to switch and get in front of Hope again and Hope would have to quickly switch as well to get away from her. It would’ve been comical to watch them chase each other around if Lizzie wasn’t so pissed off. At this point, Lizzie is contemplating a lot of options, and wondering what the possible consequences of punching a student from another school outside of school hours would be. Surely, they can’t give her detention for that.

When halftime is called the score is still 0 to 0. Lizzie doesn’t know whether this is good or bad. As the players flood back onto the bench, Hope comes to sit right next to where Lizzie is standing. The coach starts to talk some strategy but Hope clearly only plans on half listening as she positions herself facing more toward Lizzie than toward the coach.

“How are you holding up?” Lizzie asks as Hope is taking a drink from her water bottle.

Hope swallows and wipes the excess water off her mouth. “I don’t know. I’m better at focusing on the game than I am on how I’m feeling,” Hope says candidly, her breath still coming out a little labored.

“Well, you need to figure out how to do both right about now, at least when you’re around little miss asshole,” Lizzie says, her voice encouraging despite the blunt statement.

Hope nods, taking another drink of water and wiping the sweat out of her eyes.

“Hope, I know you can do this. You’re better than these assholes, but you have to know when you need to tap out. You _are_ better than them, but you have to put in a lot more effort in than they do, so you need to be careful. I don’t want any more broken hockey sticks,” Lizzie finishes with a smirk.

Hope snorts at that, still nursing her water. It takes another moment before she says, “Thanks, Lizzie.”

Lizzie only nods, not knowing what to do emotionally with Hope’s gratitude. “You good then?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, because you should probably pay a little attention to what your coach is saying.”

Hope laughs, but turns to face her coach, nonetheless.

After a few more minutes, the game starts back up again. Lizzie knows that she’s probably not supposed to be back where the team is situated, but she can’t bring herself to leave. It’s not even a particularly good view of the game, considering when the puck gets too close to the side she’s on, she can’t even see it. She knows it’s because of Hope. She knows it’s because she’s worried about Hope. She doesn’t know what Penelope has said to Hope, but based on the way Hope was acting, she has a guess as to what it might be regarding, and that thought makes her blood boil.

Despite being reset at the half, the Mystic Wolves are still backed into playing defensively within a play or so, which isn’t good considering their offense is their strongest point. Lizzie continues to watch as the Mystic Wolves’ goal is swarmed with players over and over again, the puck hardly spending any time on the other side of the rink.

Then there is a particularly chaotic moment, full of bodies colliding and sticks smacking and about a dozen different shots at the goal, all of which ends in a score for Bayport. Your average spectator probably couldn’t have decerned what had happened, but Lizzie was up close and personal with the only part that actually mattered.

Hope had been passed the puck by one of the defenders, narrowly managing to keep possession as a player rams into her. She turns to start running it back down the rink, but then a stick comes in between her legs, hooking one of her skates so she lands flat on her face. That same stick recovers the puck and makes a shot at goal, the puck just barely being missed by the goaltender.

Lizzie hisses in a sharp breath as she watches Hope drag herself up off the ice. She would be yelling at the refs who didn’t call any penalties if she wasn’t so worried about Hope, plus it seemed like the coach had her covered.

Hope swears through a clenched jaw as she balances back onto her skates. Her face feels hot and her breath is coming out in forceful bursts. Just as she gets back onto her feet, she realizes there is someone standing in front of her, a familiar smirk and the same person how had just tripped her. Hope is about to spit out something nasty when Penelope beats her too it.

“Fuck, you must be glad your parents aren’t alive to see how fucking badly you’re losing,” Penelope hisses with a cruel laugh.

Hope’s entire world goes white for a second, only able to feel her breath ripping its way in and out of her lungs and the hockey stick clenched in her hands. About a thousand different emotions and thoughts fight in her stomach, but most of them boil down to really fucking pissed. When the world comes back into focus, Penelope is still standing in front of Hope, which seems like a bad idea after what she’s said. Hope isn’t sure if Penelope wants her to kill her, or if she’s just that stupid. With ever muscle in her body so tightly coiled, Hope isn’t sure if she even in control of her body anymore, but she feels her body skate past Penelope, forcefully bumping into her on the way. She doesn’t know where she is going, but she knows she needs to get out of here, as far away as possible. She can’t fuck up another game.

Hope’s knees hit the barrier with a solid thud as she comes to a stop in front of the bench. She vaults herself over, but doesn’t get herself up high enough, causing her to just tumble over the side and land on the ground in a pile of anger and hockey gear. Her breath comes in hot, painful puffs as she growls down at the floor she is pressed against.

The coach looks down at Hope, confused. “Hope, I didn’t call you out,” He says matter-of-factly.

“Well, I’m out,” Hope snarls, her voice quiet despite the threatening edge.

The coach only nods and signals for someone to sub in as Hope roughly pushes herself up off the ground. She knocks over two benches in the process, and basically everyone’s water bottle, but no one is complaining.

Hope stumbles toward the locker room blindly. She can’t breathe. Every sound is deafening. Her throat feels raw, but she doesn’t remember saying anything. She feels like she wants to peel off her skin or break all of her bones, or all of someone else’s bones.

Hope’s fingers find the clip on her helmet and her throws it with everything she has. There is so much noise in her head she doesn’t hear it land. She trips and stumbles onto the floor, a frustrating reminder that she’s still wearing skates. She yanks them off and throws them all the same, forcefully and with no direction.

“Ow! Hope, what the fuck!” A voice shouts and it latches on to Hope and drags her back to earth. After a moment, Hope’s vision focuses on Lizzie standing in front of her. There is a red mark on Lizzie’s hand from having to deflect the skate Hope had thrown. Despite this, Lizzie looks more concerned than angry.

Hope just stares up at Lizzie from where she is sprawled on the floor, her breath ragged, and her fists clenched. Hope hadn’t even realized she was crying.

“Hope,” Lizzie says with a soft sigh as she approaches cautiously, kneeling down next to Hope. She slowly starts helping Hope out of her gear.

Hope watches Lizzie approach and start to pull one of her gloves off. After a moment, Hope closes her eyes and forces herself to take more even breaths. She can hear Lizzie murmuring comforting things next to her.

Hope steadies her breathing enough so that when Lizzie has pulled off every piece of gear she can by herself, Hope has enough awareness to start taking things off herself. Lizzie still helps, of course, because Hope’s fingers are sloppy and almost numb and very, very easily frustrated.

Once Hope is out of all of her pads, left in just her under armor shirt and a pair of shorts, she flops back down onto the ground with a forceful sigh. She can feel the tears coming from her eyes now, feel the dried tears on her cheeks along with the fresh ones, feel the sobs catching on her breath before she forces them down.

“Hope?” Lizzie calls to her softly, her hand half outstretched as if unsure if she can touch Hope.

Hope crawls into a sitting position and looks at Lizzie for a long moment, tears shining in those deep blue eyes. Lizzie waits patiently to do whatever Hope needs her to do. She had never seen the girl cry before, and genuinely never thought she would. And like usual, Hope manages to surprise her once again, collapsing forward into Lizzie, throwing her arms around her waist and burying her face into Lizzie’s lap as the sobs finally win.

Lizzie freezes for a second, completely taken aback, but quickly gets a hold of herself. She brings her arms around Hope, taking out the girl’s ponytail and rubbing comforting circles against her back. Hope shakes and sobs, and Lizzie holds her and tells her that it will be okay without even knowing exactly what Hope is crying about. She doesn’t need to know. Hope is strong enough to take on anything.


	10. What the Hell is Wrong with You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, Jojo,” Penelope says as she comes to a stop, a shadow of her usual flirtatious tone.
> 
> “What the hell is wrong with you?” Josie snaps, surprised by how harshly it comes out.
> 
> Penelope has the audacity to look offended, even upset at Josie, but Josie doesn’t give her a chance to respond.
> 
> “What makes you think you can say stuff like? And for what, a stupid hockey game?” Josie says, just on the edge of outright yelling.
> 
> “It’s just the way the game is played,” Penelope says stiltedly, the words sounding practiced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy Folks!  
> Oh boy, this took a hot second, huh? My condolences to anyone who only reads this fic of mine, because I have been writing, just not this one, for whatever reason.  
> Sorry about the formatting of the last chapter being kinda weird. I recently switched from google docs to word and it formats differently I guess.  
> This chapter ended up having way more fluff than I intended, holy shit. I have no self control. Also, if you're wondering why it takes me so long to update, it's because I have done zero planning for this fic, I'm kind of just figuring it out as I go, so I hit a lot of road blocks.  
> Thanks again for all of the comments! You guys are sweet and amazing and I love you!  
> Enjoy!

Lizzie has no idea how much time has passed when Hope’s sobs finally subside. After a few more deep breaths, Hope slowly detangles herself from Lizzie and drags herself into a sitting position. She’s still close to Lizzie, close enough that Lizzie can feel the heat radiating off of her despite the cold. Hope lets out a bone deep sigh and lets her head fall back against the lockers they are propped up against. There is an audible clanging sound as her head collides with the metal behind her. Lizzie winces at the impact but Hope doesn’t.

Lizzie waits for a long moment, listening to Hope breathe and the distant sounds of the hockey game outside the locker room. Eventually, Lizzie realizes that Hope seems content not to talk about what happened, and while Lizzie wants to respect that, she also wants to know what exactly happened.

“Feeling a little better?” Lizzie asks gently.

Hope nods as she lets out a long exhale.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lizzie asks.

Hope only lets out a dry chuckle in response.

“What did she even say to you?” Lizzie asks, plowing ahead despite it being obvious that Hope isn’t really looking to talk about it.

Hope seems to consider the question for a long moment, her jaw clenching a little at the memory. “She was talking about my parents,” Hope mumbles weakly, her voice barely audible.

Lizzie is surprised by the sudden burst of pure, unadulterated rage she feels. Not that she didn’t think she would be angry, but she can’t remember the last time she was this angry without a trauma trigger being involved.

“What the fuck!” Lizzie growls. “What kind of fucking psychopath would say that kind of shit over a stupid hockey game?”

Hope just shakes her head, agreeing with Lizzie’s outrage.

“I’m going to fucking kill her.”

“No, you’re not. If I didn’t get to beat the shit out of her, you don’t get to either,” Hope says, a little humor mixing with her still simmering anger.

Lizzie looks at Hope for a moment before letting out something between a laugh and a sigh. “Alright, fine, but you’re going to have to let Josie know that she can’t kill her either.”

Hope furrows her brow at that. “Wait, why?”

“Remember how I said, Josie recognized that girl from last week’s game. Well, it’s because Josie got her number at that game. They were nerd flirting all weekend. So, she’s already pissed because Penelope lied to her about why she was at the game, but when Josie finds out what a fucking psycho she is, she’s probably going to strangle her.”

“Nerd flirting?” Hope asks, her voice sound a little far away, exhaustion finally hitting her.

“Yeah, they were like sending each other speech and debate memes or some shit. Is that the only thing you got out of what I said?” Lizzie says slightly amused.

“I’m tired, okay?” Hope says with a soft chuckle.

“I can only imagine,” Lizzie says sympathetically.

“You know, you can go back to the game if you want, Lizzie. I think I just need a minute by myself before everyone starts coming back here,” Hope says after a quiet moment.

Lizzie doesn’t move for a long moment before nodding reluctantly. ”Just come say goodbye before you head home, okay?”

Hope agrees, giving Lizzie a tired smile before she heads back out to the rink.

The game is still going, only a few minutes left on the clock, as Lizzie makes her way back around the rink. Bayport is clearly going to win, the score 3-0. No surprise there. The fact makes Lizzie grit her teeth as she looks for where her sister is in the stands.

Josie jumps to her feet when she sees Lizzie approach, rushing forward to meet her. “Lizzie, hey. What happened? Is Hope okay?” Josie asks, impatient for answers after watching what went down.

“Hope’s okay, but your girlfriend is a fucking psycho,” Lizzie snaps angrily.

“What do you mean?” Josie says, her concern overriding her need to correct Lizzie’s description of Penelope as her girlfriend.

“I don’t know exactly what she said out there, but she was talking shit, shit about Hope’s parents,” Lizzie growls, turning her head to glare at the back of Penelope’s jersey.

“ _Seriously_?” Josie exclaims, joining Lizzie to glare at the hockey player. Anger boils in Josie’s blood, anger at Penelope, anger at herself for ever being interested in someone who would do something like that. What did she even see in her anyways?

The clock hits zero and the buzzer sounds while the two sisters are still seething. Josie swears she can see Penelope’s irritating smirk from the stands as Bayport is declared the winners. Without even thinking about it, Josie is on her feet. She mumbles something about being right back before making her way down out of the stands and toward where the opposing team is packing up.

As Josie approaches, Penelope looks up from packing her gear and catches her eye. The smirk on Penelope’s face disappears when she sees Josie, her expression becoming unreadable as she gets to her feet and jogs over to Josie.

“Hey, Jojo,” Penelope says as she comes to a stop, a shadow of her usual flirtatious tone.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Josie snaps, surprised by how harshly it comes out.

Penelope has the audacity to look offended, even upset at Josie, but Josie doesn’t give her a chance to respond.

“What makes you think you can say stuff like? And for what, a stupid hockey game?” Josie says, just on the edge of outright yelling.

“It’s just the way the game is played,” Penelope says stiltedly, the words sounding practiced.

“On what planet!” Josie exclaims in disbelief.

“This one,” Penelope says, clearly trying to sound emotionless, but Josie can see the girl’s jaw clenching.

“You’re a psychopath! You lied to my face, you dug up Hope’s trauma, and you put her through so much pain for a stupid game! I can’t believe I ever liked you!” Josie spits out, spinning on her heels to leave before she makes more of a scene.

“Now, wait,” Penelope snaps, sounding downright defensive now.

Josie doesn’t stop so Penelope steps forward and reaches out to grab Josie’s arm. Josie immediately shakes her off but still turns to listen to what she has to say.

“I _never_ lied to you, Josie,” Penelope insists.

Josie is utterly baffled that that’s the part Penelope is trying to defend, as if it matters compared to the rest of what she said. Even still, caught in the heat of the moment, Josie can’t help but argue. “You told me you didn’t like hockey,” Josie says, gesturing vaguely around them to the obvious contradiction.

“ _I don’t_ ,” Penelope asserts from behind clenched teeth.

“Are you being serious right now!”

“It’s not my choice to play, Josie!” Penelope growls low, trying desperately to not raise her voice. “And I don’t have the option to lose. It’s just the way the game is played.”

“You’re insane!” Josie snaps before finally turning and stomping away. She walks right past Lizzie who had been lingering behind the crowd for both Josie and Hope.

“Josie?” Lizzie calls after her sister.

“I’ll meet you at the car,” Josie snaps behind her, not even bothering to stop.

Lizzie watches her sister storm off with a slightly confused expression, before she turns and sees Penelope standing in the direction Josie had come from, staring blankly at the space where Josie had just been. Lizzie has half a mind to go over and tell her off or break her nose, but it seems like Josie already did the former and she had promised Hope she wouldn’t do the latter, so Lizzie just turns away, takes a few deep breaths, and walks away before she changes her mind.

Lizzie vaguely wanders in the direction of the parking lot, still waiting for Hope to reemerge. Once the opposing team vacates the rink, the Mystic Wolves can finally be seen starting to file out from the locker rooms. Lizzie is once again surprised by how upbeat the team seems even after a defeat. One would think that with what happened to Hope, the atmosphere would be dampened at least a little, but, then again, Lizzie is coming to realize that Ethan and Maya’s energy is almost directly proportional to how much they think Hope needs cheering up.

Lizzie watches as the siblings joke around with Hope, their energy reaching the point that Lizzie thinks they look downright ridiculous. Lizzie finds herself frowning at them. She really shouldn’t be irritated like this by Hope’s teammates trying to cheer her up. She should be glad that Hope has people willing to cheer her up. It just gets under her skin for some reason. Especially the way Ethan throws his arm around Hope’s shoulders and jostles her around as he jokes, managing to draw a small smile from Hope.

Before Lizzie can further contemplate the weird hot feeling under her skin, Hope halts in her step and pulls her phone from her pocket. Lizzie is surprised to see a wide smile stretch across Hope’s face as her eyes brighten. Hope turns to say a quick goodbye to her teammates before jogging toward the exit, something like excitement in her step. Lizzie furrows her brow and moves to follow after her.

When Lizzie exits the building, she sees a car pulled up right next to the door, a blonde woman standing next to it. There is something about the woman that makes it hard for Lizzie to tell how old she is. The woman smiles fondly as her eyes land on Hope jogging toward her, opening up her arms to envelop her as Hope basically tackles her.

Lizzie watches as Hope retracts from the hug after a moment and starts to talk animatedly with the blonde woman, a bright, almost silly smile on her face. Lizzie is struck by the sight. Hope looks so happy and carefree, even a little childlike, and once again Lizzie realizes how little she actually knows Hope.

After a moment, Lizzie starts to feel like she’s intruding and turns to leave. Almost as soon as Lizzie starts to move however, Hope turns her head and catches her eye, turning that smile in her direction and effectively stopping Lizzie in her tracks. Hope gestures for Lizzie to come over and it takes several seconds for Lizzie to even register it. She shakes her head to clear her thoughts before walking toward Hope.

Hope turns to say something to the woman as Lizzie approaches, but she turns back to face Lizzie when she reaches them. The next thing Lizzie knows, Hope’s arms are around her in the tightest embrace Lizzie’s ever experienced, and, _holy shit, is Hope Mikaelson a hugger?_ Lizzie barely has a chance to return the hug before Hope pulls away.

“Thanks for tonight, Lizzie, really,” Hope murmurs earnestly before she takes a step back, out of Lizzie’s personal space.

Hope quickly turns to face the woman next to her again. “Lizzie, this is my Aunt Rebekah. Aunt Rebekah, this is Lizzie, my… friend,” Hope says, looking a little redder than Lizzie remembers her being.

Rebekah throws Hope a knowing look that makes her look down at her feet before turning to Lizzie and extending a hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lizzie.”

“You too,” Lizzie manages awkwardly as she shakes her hand. Hope’s aunt radiates a strange confidence that makes Lizzie feel like a complete child compared to her.

Rebekah looks at Lizzie for a moment. “Saltzman, right?”

Lizzie nods, her brow furrowing in confusion. Lizzie glances at Hope to find her looking not at all surprised and blushing even more.

Rebekah laughs almost conspiratorially. “Your father was not always a history teacher,” She says suggestively, a knowing smile on her face.

Hope groans at that and pushes on her aunt’s shoulder. “Aunt Rebekah… please,” Hope mutters quietly.

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear,” Rebekah says with a laugh, sounding rather proud of herself. “I suppose I should stop embarrassing you in front of your _friend_.”

Hope groans again and pushes her aunt toward the car, the woman thankfully complying with the suggestion. “I’m sorry about that,” Hope says with a nervous laugh. “Thanks again, Lizzie. I hope you have a good night.”

“Yeah, have a good night, Hope,” Lizzie responds, unable to keep the smile off her face at Hope’s embarrassment.

Hope gives one more wave before moving to get into her aunt’s car. Lizzie chuckles to herself for a moment as she watches Hope leave before heading off to find her own vehicle.

When Lizzie gets to her car, she finds Josie in the passenger seat, staring down at her phone. With only a glance, it’s apparent to Lizzie that Josie is only marginally calmer than she had been the last time Lizzie saw her. Josie looked as tightly wound as a coiled spring and Lizzie could basically feel the intense energy coming off of her.

“Hey,” Lizzie says cautiously as she slips into her seat and starts the car.

“Hey,” Josie says tightly. “How’s Hope?”

“She’s good. Her aunt is back in town and she seems pretty happy about that,” Lizzie says, her tone still extremely careful. Josie is the type of person that keeps all of her anger inside, so when you start to actually see her getting angry, it’s time to take cover. Lizzie would not want to be Penelope right now.

“That’s good,” Josie almost growls, somehow managing to unintentionally make the words sound like a threat.

“Are you okay?” Lizzie asks gently.

“I’m fine. I just have some research to do tonight,” Josie says, a fire burning low in her voice.

“Cool,” Lizzie says awkwardly, finally moving to pull out of the parking lot.

When Lizzie goes to bed that night, Josie is at her desk, staring at her computer, and when Lizzie wakes up the next morning, Josie is face down on her keyboard, drooling on her notebook. Lizzie has no idea what Josie is doing but she knows it has something to do with Penelope, so she’s not sure if she should be worried or impressed by her sister’s fervor.

Lizzie watches Josie barely manages to stumble through her morning routine, half awake and not entirely aware of her surroundings. The part that really pushes Lizzie into genuine worry though is that despite barely functioning, Josie crams every nonessential second with whatever she is working on. She’s taking notes off her phone while she eats, she’s reading some kind of article while she gets dressed, she’s silent the entire car ride, unwilling to look away from her computer screen.

“So, what are you working on?” Lizzie asks just as they pull into the school parking lot.

“A story.”

“For the newspaper?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s it about?”

It’s only then that Josie finally looks up from her work to meet her sister’s eyes. “Something,” She says noncommittally.

Lizzie frowns. “Alright, fine. Don’t tell me. But just so you know, you look like a crazy person,” She says as she gets out of the car. She doesn’t get why Josie is being so difficult.

Josie doesn’t bother responding to Lizzie’s comment. She just reluctantly closes her laptop and follows her sister into the school.

The whole interaction leaves Lizzie with a completely off start to her day. She’s more irritable and the anxiety about Josie just sort of hangs over her all day. She tries to make the most of the day despite the rocky start, but once she remembers that she has detention after school, she gives up entirely and lets her eyes glaze over for the rest of her classes.

It’s embarrassing to have to tell her coach that she can’t make it to practice because she has detention. It’s mortifying to know that the coach will definitely tell all of her teammates why she isn’t there. It’s exhausting to think about having to sit in a room with delinquents doing nothing for 45 minutes.

Lizzie is dramatically contemplating all of the things she’s rather be doing as she walks into detention. She surveys the room quickly to find a place to sit and freezes when she sees a familiar figure. One of the first smiles Lizzie has had all day slowly finds its way onto her face as she goes to sit down.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Hope Mikaelson,” Lizzie says teasingly as she takes the seat next to Hope.

Hope’s head jerks up to see Lizzie, smiling as soon as she sees who it is. “Hey, Lizzie. What are you doing here?”

Lizzie raises an eyebrow. “I could ask you the same question.”

Hope laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck. “Oh yeah.”

Lizzie watches Hope fidget for a moment before deciding to spare her. “I’m here because of that kid I punched the other day,” She explains dismissively.

“Oh, right,” Hope says with a frown, remembering the day.

“So, what did the oh so perfect Hope Mikaelson do to require such punishment?” Lizzie asks with a little too much enthusiasm.

Hope hesitates momentarily before starting to explain, “Oh, uh, well, you remember how I said that when they announced the new cheerleading performances, I went and argued with the principal about it?”

Lizzie furrows her brow slightly and nods. “You got detention for arguing with the principal?”

“Not exactly. On the last day that I talked to him, I got kind of upset and slammed the door on my way out.” Hope winces preemptively for her next words, her face going a little red. “And it must have been pretty old or something because I may have shattered the glass in that window part next to the door.”

“What?” Lizzie exclaims with a laugh, both of which are much too loud for the small, mostly empty room they are in.

The teacher supervising at the front of the room glares at them. “You two! Be quiet or I’ll separate you,” They snap irritably.

Lizzie puts a hand over her mouth to try and contain her remaining laughter. It doesn’t help that Hope has gone beet red and looks more embarrassed than Lizzie has ever seen her, which is saying a lot considering Lizzie was there when during the eighth grade play production that Hope had been a part of.

“It’s not funny, Lizzie,” Hope pouts, clearly struggling to keep a smile off of her face. Which for the record only made Lizzie laugh more.

“Oh god, you’re adorable,” Lizzie says without thinking. The second the words are out of her mouth she freezes. Where had that come from?

Hope had frozen too, her lips parted but no words coming out. Her gaze is on the floor and her cheeks are red. But she had been blushing before that, so it definitely didn’t have anything to do with what Lizzie said.

Lizzie clears her throat, awkwardly breaking the tension. Not that she really knew why things had gotten so tense all of a sudden. They are friends and friends say that kind of thing about each other sometimes. Right? Maybe they just aren’t there yet?

“So, how is having your aunt back?” Lizzie asks, awkwardly.

Hope immediately perks back up, seemingly forgetting all about the awkwardness of a few seconds ago as a bright smile appears on her face.

“It’s great! She just came back from Turkey, and she always brings back a bunch of cool stuff with her. Plus, it’s just nice to have her around to talk to about stuff, that and she’s a great cook,” Hope shares happily.

Lizzie listens just as happily, smiling fondly at Hope’s excitement. And, god, there it is again! That thought swirling around in her head, trying to worm its way out of Lizzie’s mouth. _Hope looks adorable_. Hope looked adorable when she had excitedly hugged Lizzie the previous night, Hope looked adorable a couple of minutes ago when she was red from embarrassment, and Hope looks adorable now. It’s not like Lizzie is arguing with that thought either, it’s clearly and objectively true. She just doesn’t know why she keeps thinking about it, why that thought won’t leave her head. It’s starting to get distracting.

“…and she was showing me some of the pictures she took last night. She was there for work so it’s not like she went sightseeing, but she always tries to take pictures of skylines and landscapes for me to paint if I want.”

Lizzie is broken out of her thoughts by that. “You paint?” She asks, surprised.

“Uh, yeah, a little. When I have time at least,” Hope says, self-consciously.

Lizzie laughs. “Is there anything you aren’t good at?” She says, and it’s odd how within just a couple of weeks Lizzie can say the exact same words and mean something entirely different by it.

“Not breaking things, I guess,” Hope says with an embarrassed chuckle.

Lizzie laughs. “Okay, fair. Chuck did tell me about the time you somehow managed to break your helmet in half.”

“He did what! Why would he do that?” Hope exclaims, turning red again.

“It’s funny,” Lizzie insists with a laugh.

“It’s not,” Hope huffs. “At least he didn’t tell you about that time I almost started a fire with my skates.”

“You what?” Lizzie asks, eyes wide.

“Nevermind!” Hope says quickly, ducking her head to avoid meeting Lizzie’s eyes.

“Oh, come on, you can’t give me that and not explain. You’ve got to tell me.”

Hope grumbles under her breath, turning away from Lizzie as her blush rises.

“Okay, okay, fine. You don’t have to tell me,” Lizzie says, dropping her teasing tone to coax Hope out of her embarrassment.

Hope huffs but eventually turns back to face Lizzie. “Thank you,” She says quietly, and it makes Lizzie feel a little bad for teasing her. Although it’s hard to feel too bad when she looks so adorable. Damn, there it is again. How is Lizzie supposed to think under these conditions?

Lizzie is broken out of her thoughts again by Hope clearing her throat. “Hey, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about, actually.”

“What’s up?” Lizzie asks, silently noting how Hope sounds a little nervous. That’s weird.

“Well, it’s just that there’s this winter fair thing that they do at Mystic Falls High to raise money. Specifically, I think it’s a joint effort between the hockey team and the theater department.”

“Weird combo, but go on,” Lizzie interrupts briefly.

“Ha, yeah. But anyways, I usually go and volunteer, you know, to support the team, and I was wondering if you wanted to come and volunteer too. We can always use more help and I figured you could keep me company. If you want, obviously. You don’t have to,” Hope explains hesitantly.

Lizzie only thinks about it for a second before deciding. “Sure, that sounds fun!”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I like hanging out with you and I guess I could do a little work. Plus, it sounds interesting.”

Hope still seems a little taken aback. “Oh, okay. Cool.” She looks like she is about to say something else before being interrupted by the teacher.

“Alright, time’s up! You’re all free to go,” The teacher says blandly, not bothering to look up to address them.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” Lizzie says as the two of them gather their things.

“Yeah, totally. Are you going to be coming to the game tomorrow?” Hope asks with a smile.

“Uh, duh, Hope, it’s a home game,” Lizzie says, pushing Hope’s shoulder playfully.

“Oh, yeah, right,” Hope says, looking a little embarrassed again, but her smile hasn’t faded.

“Just can’t get enough of me, huh, Mikaelson?” Lizzie teases before slipping out the detention room.

Hope chuckles to herself as Lizzie disappears from view. “Yeah, I guess,” Hope says quietly, a soft smile on her face.

Lizzie is still smiling when she meets up with Josie to go home. When Lizzie finds her in the library hunched over her computer, the smile slips from her face.

“You ready to go?” Lizzie asks tightly once she reaches the table Josie is sitting at.

Josie starts slightly, her head jerking to see Lizzie standing over her. “Yeah, just a second,” She says irritably.

Lizzie huffs and crosses her arms while she waits for her sister to finish writing a note and then pack up. Once Josie is done, they head for the door in silence. Only when they are both in their car, Lizzie in the driver’s seat and Josie in the passenger’s, does Lizzie say anything.

“What’s the story about, Jo?” Lizzie asks coldly.

“Why do you care?” Josie mumbles defiantly, opening her laptop back up to keep working.

Lizzie leans over and closes it.

“What the hell!” Josie snaps.

“I care because you care, Josie,” Lizzie says. “That’s how this works. So, answer my question.”

Josie hesitates, glancing everywhere but at Lizzie like she’s looking for a way out. “It’s about the change in division standards,” Josie mumbles.

“So, it’s about Penelope.”

“It’s not about her!” Josie snaps angrily. “There is some seriously shady shit going on here!”

Lizzie is a little taken aback by how angry her sister looks, but she doesn’t let it show. “I believe you, Josie, but that doesn’t change anything. No matter what you say, this is always going to be about her. And I get it, I hate her just as much as you do, but look at what you’re doing to yourself, and for what? For her?”

Josie glares at her for a long moment, like she’s trying to find a good argument, any argument against what Lizzie has said. Clearly, she doesn’t find one, considering her next words are: “Whatever, Lizzie.”

Lizzie watches her sister open back up her laptop and disappear into her research again. She is very tempted to just close the computer on her, but from the way Josie is acting, it sounds like playing with fire. So instead, Lizzie sighs and pulls out of the parking lot, thinking about all of the things she’s going to do to Penelope when she gets her hands on her.

“Oh, you’re actually here for once.”

Penelope looks up from her homework at the sound of the bland but vaguely authoritative voice of her father. She finds him standing just outside her open bedroom door looking slightly more irritable than he does normally, although she can’t tell if it’s because he doesn’t want her to be there or because he’s upset about her habit of rarely being in her own home.

“Have you prepared for the next game yet?” Penelope’s father asks, the question pointed and pressured.

Penelope can feel her body tense, her eyes burning holes into the title line of her lab report. “I have homework,” She says, gritting her teeth.

“Good, then you know what you need to do once you’re done,” Her father says, promptly disappearing down the hall.

Penelope lets out a long sigh once the sound of her father’s footsteps fade. She runs a hand through her hair and glances over her half-written lab report before reaching for her phone. She scrolls through her contacts until she finds the right one and makes the call.

“Cole?” Penelope says once the line picks up.

“Yeah, what’s up, Penny?” Penelope’s cousin answers from the other side of the phone.

“You free tomorrow?” Penelope asks, her voice a little tight.

“It’s a home game tomorrow, Pen.”

Penelope’s stomach sinks. “Oh, right.”

A small sigh comes from the phone. “You can still come if you want. It’s up to you.”

“Thanks, but I’m not looking to get murdered tomorrow,” Penelope says sharply.

“Whatever, just let me know by the end of school if I need to pick you up,” Cole responds, his voice becoming mildly irritated. “Goodnight.”

“Yeah, bye.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! I crave validation. 
> 
> Feel free to say hi to me on Tumblr: @Werederg
> 
> And if you want to see me fuck around and play video games. I also have a [twitch](https://www.twitch.tv/werederg)


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